PoT: Displacement, part two
Sep. 23rd, 2005 07:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
soraciaTitle: Displacement
Author: Kagemihari![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flamesword
Rating: PG-13 so far
Genre: Angst/Romance
Pairing: Ryoma/Fuji, onesided Fuji/Tez
Chapter: part two of three
Summary: Ryoma's view of the events in part one -- warnings for weirdness, and Ryoma being Ryoma, and that's about it, really.
PART II
Ryoma had known that Fuji-senpai had what Momo-senpai might call a crush on Tezuka-buchou. It wasn't something he'd noticed, not exactly; just an absent sort of knowing--when Fuji-senpai looks at buchou like that, this is what it means. And since it did not concern him, Ryoma thought no further of it than to catalogue and dismiss it.
It was when the look started getting directed at him, that he had noticed. It puzzled him, at first--he didn't quite recognize the look when it was not given in the right direction, and it took him some time to place it. Yet, it was that same look, the one that Fuji-senpai gave to Tezuka all the time; the one that said, you are fascinating and I want to get inside you and figure you out. The one that said, I want you to look at me, I want you to know me, I want you to want me. A watchful, hungry, not quite wistful look.
When Fuji gave him that look, it startled Ryoma badly. He had never seen Fuji look at anyone other than Tezuka-buchou that way. It wasn't until he saw the other look, the one that followed the I-want-you look, that all the pieces finally fell into place. Ryoma saw the look out of the corner of his eye--he was concentrating on something that Momo was saying and not really paying attention to Fuji watching him, although the eyes on his back made him slightly uneasy.
Then Momo had said something silly, and Ryoma had smirked at him, looking up at him from under his cap before he shot him down. But he had definitely noticed Fuji's expression change, his eyes widening slightly for just a brief instant, as if he were surprised. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he said nothing, and Ryoma thought he looked as if he had seen a ghost. It was oddly unnerving, even moreso that being given that other look--the one usually reserved for Tezuka-buchou.
After several more occurrences of this new look, which always appeared right after the other one, Ryoma realized that when Fuji gave him the wanting look, he wasn't seeing Ryoma at all. He was looking at buchou, and Ryoma was reminding him of the way the captain had used to look. And whenever Ryoma's expression became too obviously not buchou's look, Fuji was suddenly reminded of the fact that he was looking at Ryoma, not buchou, and that buchou wasn't even here.
Ryoma wasn't quite sure how to react to this, once he had it figured out. It wasn't that he minded Fuji-senpai looking at him like that, like he wanted him...actually, he thought he might kind of like it. It wasn't something he had ever considered, before, but now...it was interesting. So for awhile he simply let it be. After all, Fuji-senpai had been looking at buchou like that for a long time, and buchou had never done anything about it so far as Ryoma could tell.
It was the glimpse of pain, anger, and desolation in Fuji's eyes once, when he met that second look straight on, that made him finally decide enough was enough. At the rate he was going, Fuji was going to start blaming Ryoma for reminding him of buchou--perhaps he already was--and Ryoma didn't want anything to do with that. It was none of his fault if Fuji wanted someone who wasn't here; someone who, apparently, wasn't interested in Fuji that way even when he was here.
If Fuji-senpai was going to blame him for something, Ryoma decided, better for something he had actually done.
-----
It was easy enough to find Fuji alone, that day--he hadn't had any clear idea of what he was going to do, only that he wanted to make sure of what he was seeing, and then do something about it.
"Do I remind you of him so much?"
"Of who?" Fuji looked up at him with that hiding smile, and pretended not to know what he was talking about. Or perhaps he himself was not aware of the way he watched--the looks, and what they meant. Ryoma doubted it. Fuji-senpai knew himself better than that.
He was amused, nevertheless, by the attempted deflection. Refusing to be deterred, he continued calmly. If Fuji wanted to pretend this wasn't obvious, then Ryoma was happy to assure him otherwise. "I remind you of buchou. You look at me sometimes like you don't know who I am." He paused, considering, watching Fuji's closed expression. "Like you wish I was something else...something more. I'm not there yet."
"No," Fuji agreed amiably, "you're not. You're not him." There was a slight, half warning, half resentful edge to his voice, and Ryoma smirked. Gotcha.
I may not be him...not yet...but I am close enough to catch your attention, Fuji-senpai. And maybe more than that... "Mada mada...but maybe close enough..." He stopped, waiting, wondering how far he would have to push. Better to play it safe and go just far enough; Fuji was subtle, and sometimes subtlety was the best strategy for handling him.
"Close enough?" Fuji just kept smiling at him, still hiding. Probably not sure yet what Ryoma wanted. Well, he could change that in a hurry. But he wanted to be sure, first, that Fuji knew what he wanted.
He gave Fuji a serious look, studying him intently for a crack in that blank smile that hid everything Fuji was thinking. If he was thinking. Ryoma thought he had probably avoided thinking much about this, but Ryoma wanted him to, so Fuji was going to have to deal. "What do you want? That look, when you see him instead of me...what are you looking for?"
And there it was, the smile slipping just for a moment, revealing shock and doubt and something like pain. Anger. Yeah, Fuji definitely needed to think about this. "What makes you think I am looking for anything?"
Ryoma studied him, considering his next words carefully. He wanted to push Fuji, but not too far. Not so far that the anger he'd seen would lash out at him. Just far enough. The look itself--that was what he wanted to know. Did Fuji know what that look meant, himself? "It's that look you give him, like you're waiting for something...like you want something." Like you want him, but Ryoma didn't say that. There was only so far you could push, after all.
Apparently that was just far enough, apparently Fuji had decided to quit pretending now. Ryoma felt briefly pleased with himself for reading the situation so well. He was a bit surprised, and distracted, by the thrill that ran through him as Fuji opened his eyes. Actually looking at him, a slightly challenging look. "Perhaps I do."
Ryoma restrained a snort. Of course you do. But the tone said, so, and what are you going to do about it? Ryoma knew a dare when he heard one.
"Do you," he stated, forming the words like a question; but Fuji would know that it was not a question. "I wonder..." I wonder what you want. I wonder if you know what you want.
He leaned forward, drawn; leaning down, which was strange. Short as he was, Fuji was still taller than him. But he was looking down now, and if he didn't quite have the upper hand yet, he knew he could reach it. He could see it, feel it, almost taste it in that slight, almost barely a flicker in the blue eyes. The flicker that said Fuji was a bit off his guard here, a bit...surprised? Maybe that.
A bit of a flicker that told Ryoma that whatever this was, this tension, Fuji was not entirely certain of it either, and somehow, both of them were at it's mercy. But Ryoma felt suddenly that it was like the tension of a close game of tennis, that momentum that you could catch and ride and crest on, let it carry you to a win. And there was something to win here, there was something at stake. Something unspoken, but no less real. And Ryoma always played to win.
There was something magnetic about the deep blue of Fuji's eyes. Something that said, here is a match, here is someone to meet with full strength. Like the game in the rain that day, the one that had never been finished. Ryoma had the sudden feeling that it was about to be finished on an entirely different court. A different ground.
A challenge that had been issued and never quite fulfilled, never quite settled; a question asked that had never quite been answered. Ryoma could feel the answer now, almost hear it--looking into, falling into blue that knew the same question, the same answer. Something that had been seen and noted for future confirmation.
I see you. I know you. I know what you can be.
Ryoma's mouth curved in the barest hint of a smile, that edge of something that felt like, I dare you. I dare you to prove it. I am going to make you admit it. But it was almost a surprise to him, almost not a conscious decision at all, when he found he had closed that last slight distance Fuji's mouth. As if he had found that proof in a place he had not quite expected.
It was in response to the flash of something like anticipation, something like excitement in those eyes, perhaps a hitch of breath that just barely made the confession of a thrill seeker on the edge of something that could end badly, something dangerous that wasn't quite sure, a lure like a siren's call that invited possible destruction.
If it was a surprise, however, it faded instantly beneath the sudden certainty that this was the answer, that this was the challenge met, the match point. It was heat that was sure and hard and definite, a statement and an assertion. A sense of ownership, of claiming, of winning that Ryoma had only felt before when he saw his last serve, his last return sail cleanly over the net and home, clearing the court in a final definition.
This is my ground. I can win it. I can take this game. I just did.
Fuji didn't know what he wanted--or rather, he did, but he'd been looking in the wrong place for it. Now Ryoma knew it too, and more than that, he knew what he wanted. Fuji had, maybe, not quite been seeing him, but he was going to. Ryoma was going to show him.
I am going to be that image you think you see, the reflection you think you found, I am going to show you which one is real. I am going to prove to you that what you want... is me.
He met Fuji's gaze afterward with a knowing, measuring look. Fuji had not quite gotten yet who he was dealing with, or what Ryoma had intended. But he wanted it. Yes, he wanted it. Partly he had begun to see that it was not going to be an easy thing to gain, or to keep. Partly because it was, at the moment, just slightly out of reach. Partly because he knew that he would have to commit himself to win it. Ryoma almost smiled.
Fuji's eyes narrowed then, recognizing the tension, the unspoken line drawn. Ryoma thought that it was like the first serve of a new game, one that he had started with a twist serve on an unsuspecting opponent. An opponent that had not, quite, been expecting him to live up to his reputation. That had thought, in spite of it, that maybe Ryoma was not to be taken seriously.
Ryoma knew how to play that kind of game. And he knew how to win it.
He smirked.
Author: Kagemihari
flameswordRating: PG-13 so far
Genre: Angst/Romance
Pairing: Ryoma/Fuji, onesided Fuji/Tez
Chapter: part two of three
Summary: Ryoma's view of the events in part one -- warnings for weirdness, and Ryoma being Ryoma, and that's about it, really.
PART II
Ryoma had known that Fuji-senpai had what Momo-senpai might call a crush on Tezuka-buchou. It wasn't something he'd noticed, not exactly; just an absent sort of knowing--when Fuji-senpai looks at buchou like that, this is what it means. And since it did not concern him, Ryoma thought no further of it than to catalogue and dismiss it.
It was when the look started getting directed at him, that he had noticed. It puzzled him, at first--he didn't quite recognize the look when it was not given in the right direction, and it took him some time to place it. Yet, it was that same look, the one that Fuji-senpai gave to Tezuka all the time; the one that said, you are fascinating and I want to get inside you and figure you out. The one that said, I want you to look at me, I want you to know me, I want you to want me. A watchful, hungry, not quite wistful look.
When Fuji gave him that look, it startled Ryoma badly. He had never seen Fuji look at anyone other than Tezuka-buchou that way. It wasn't until he saw the other look, the one that followed the I-want-you look, that all the pieces finally fell into place. Ryoma saw the look out of the corner of his eye--he was concentrating on something that Momo was saying and not really paying attention to Fuji watching him, although the eyes on his back made him slightly uneasy.
Then Momo had said something silly, and Ryoma had smirked at him, looking up at him from under his cap before he shot him down. But he had definitely noticed Fuji's expression change, his eyes widening slightly for just a brief instant, as if he were surprised. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he said nothing, and Ryoma thought he looked as if he had seen a ghost. It was oddly unnerving, even moreso that being given that other look--the one usually reserved for Tezuka-buchou.
After several more occurrences of this new look, which always appeared right after the other one, Ryoma realized that when Fuji gave him the wanting look, he wasn't seeing Ryoma at all. He was looking at buchou, and Ryoma was reminding him of the way the captain had used to look. And whenever Ryoma's expression became too obviously not buchou's look, Fuji was suddenly reminded of the fact that he was looking at Ryoma, not buchou, and that buchou wasn't even here.
Ryoma wasn't quite sure how to react to this, once he had it figured out. It wasn't that he minded Fuji-senpai looking at him like that, like he wanted him...actually, he thought he might kind of like it. It wasn't something he had ever considered, before, but now...it was interesting. So for awhile he simply let it be. After all, Fuji-senpai had been looking at buchou like that for a long time, and buchou had never done anything about it so far as Ryoma could tell.
It was the glimpse of pain, anger, and desolation in Fuji's eyes once, when he met that second look straight on, that made him finally decide enough was enough. At the rate he was going, Fuji was going to start blaming Ryoma for reminding him of buchou--perhaps he already was--and Ryoma didn't want anything to do with that. It was none of his fault if Fuji wanted someone who wasn't here; someone who, apparently, wasn't interested in Fuji that way even when he was here.
If Fuji-senpai was going to blame him for something, Ryoma decided, better for something he had actually done.
-----
It was easy enough to find Fuji alone, that day--he hadn't had any clear idea of what he was going to do, only that he wanted to make sure of what he was seeing, and then do something about it.
"Do I remind you of him so much?"
"Of who?" Fuji looked up at him with that hiding smile, and pretended not to know what he was talking about. Or perhaps he himself was not aware of the way he watched--the looks, and what they meant. Ryoma doubted it. Fuji-senpai knew himself better than that.
He was amused, nevertheless, by the attempted deflection. Refusing to be deterred, he continued calmly. If Fuji wanted to pretend this wasn't obvious, then Ryoma was happy to assure him otherwise. "I remind you of buchou. You look at me sometimes like you don't know who I am." He paused, considering, watching Fuji's closed expression. "Like you wish I was something else...something more. I'm not there yet."
"No," Fuji agreed amiably, "you're not. You're not him." There was a slight, half warning, half resentful edge to his voice, and Ryoma smirked. Gotcha.
I may not be him...not yet...but I am close enough to catch your attention, Fuji-senpai. And maybe more than that... "Mada mada...but maybe close enough..." He stopped, waiting, wondering how far he would have to push. Better to play it safe and go just far enough; Fuji was subtle, and sometimes subtlety was the best strategy for handling him.
"Close enough?" Fuji just kept smiling at him, still hiding. Probably not sure yet what Ryoma wanted. Well, he could change that in a hurry. But he wanted to be sure, first, that Fuji knew what he wanted.
He gave Fuji a serious look, studying him intently for a crack in that blank smile that hid everything Fuji was thinking. If he was thinking. Ryoma thought he had probably avoided thinking much about this, but Ryoma wanted him to, so Fuji was going to have to deal. "What do you want? That look, when you see him instead of me...what are you looking for?"
And there it was, the smile slipping just for a moment, revealing shock and doubt and something like pain. Anger. Yeah, Fuji definitely needed to think about this. "What makes you think I am looking for anything?"
Ryoma studied him, considering his next words carefully. He wanted to push Fuji, but not too far. Not so far that the anger he'd seen would lash out at him. Just far enough. The look itself--that was what he wanted to know. Did Fuji know what that look meant, himself? "It's that look you give him, like you're waiting for something...like you want something." Like you want him, but Ryoma didn't say that. There was only so far you could push, after all.
Apparently that was just far enough, apparently Fuji had decided to quit pretending now. Ryoma felt briefly pleased with himself for reading the situation so well. He was a bit surprised, and distracted, by the thrill that ran through him as Fuji opened his eyes. Actually looking at him, a slightly challenging look. "Perhaps I do."
Ryoma restrained a snort. Of course you do. But the tone said, so, and what are you going to do about it? Ryoma knew a dare when he heard one.
"Do you," he stated, forming the words like a question; but Fuji would know that it was not a question. "I wonder..." I wonder what you want. I wonder if you know what you want.
He leaned forward, drawn; leaning down, which was strange. Short as he was, Fuji was still taller than him. But he was looking down now, and if he didn't quite have the upper hand yet, he knew he could reach it. He could see it, feel it, almost taste it in that slight, almost barely a flicker in the blue eyes. The flicker that said Fuji was a bit off his guard here, a bit...surprised? Maybe that.
A bit of a flicker that told Ryoma that whatever this was, this tension, Fuji was not entirely certain of it either, and somehow, both of them were at it's mercy. But Ryoma felt suddenly that it was like the tension of a close game of tennis, that momentum that you could catch and ride and crest on, let it carry you to a win. And there was something to win here, there was something at stake. Something unspoken, but no less real. And Ryoma always played to win.
There was something magnetic about the deep blue of Fuji's eyes. Something that said, here is a match, here is someone to meet with full strength. Like the game in the rain that day, the one that had never been finished. Ryoma had the sudden feeling that it was about to be finished on an entirely different court. A different ground.
A challenge that had been issued and never quite fulfilled, never quite settled; a question asked that had never quite been answered. Ryoma could feel the answer now, almost hear it--looking into, falling into blue that knew the same question, the same answer. Something that had been seen and noted for future confirmation.
I see you. I know you. I know what you can be.
Ryoma's mouth curved in the barest hint of a smile, that edge of something that felt like, I dare you. I dare you to prove it. I am going to make you admit it. But it was almost a surprise to him, almost not a conscious decision at all, when he found he had closed that last slight distance Fuji's mouth. As if he had found that proof in a place he had not quite expected.
It was in response to the flash of something like anticipation, something like excitement in those eyes, perhaps a hitch of breath that just barely made the confession of a thrill seeker on the edge of something that could end badly, something dangerous that wasn't quite sure, a lure like a siren's call that invited possible destruction.
If it was a surprise, however, it faded instantly beneath the sudden certainty that this was the answer, that this was the challenge met, the match point. It was heat that was sure and hard and definite, a statement and an assertion. A sense of ownership, of claiming, of winning that Ryoma had only felt before when he saw his last serve, his last return sail cleanly over the net and home, clearing the court in a final definition.
This is my ground. I can win it. I can take this game. I just did.
Fuji didn't know what he wanted--or rather, he did, but he'd been looking in the wrong place for it. Now Ryoma knew it too, and more than that, he knew what he wanted. Fuji had, maybe, not quite been seeing him, but he was going to. Ryoma was going to show him.
I am going to be that image you think you see, the reflection you think you found, I am going to show you which one is real. I am going to prove to you that what you want... is me.
He met Fuji's gaze afterward with a knowing, measuring look. Fuji had not quite gotten yet who he was dealing with, or what Ryoma had intended. But he wanted it. Yes, he wanted it. Partly he had begun to see that it was not going to be an easy thing to gain, or to keep. Partly because it was, at the moment, just slightly out of reach. Partly because he knew that he would have to commit himself to win it. Ryoma almost smiled.
Fuji's eyes narrowed then, recognizing the tension, the unspoken line drawn. Ryoma thought that it was like the first serve of a new game, one that he had started with a twist serve on an unsuspecting opponent. An opponent that had not, quite, been expecting him to live up to his reputation. That had thought, in spite of it, that maybe Ryoma was not to be taken seriously.
Ryoma knew how to play that kind of game. And he knew how to win it.
He smirked.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-09-23 06:57 pm (UTC)*puppy-eyes* Pweeze?
no subject
Date: 2005-09-23 07:02 pm (UTC)*snugs* Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-22 08:31 am (UTC)*wibbles and loves on you*
I absolutely love this Ryoma you're portraying; he's so predatory and brainblowingly sexy in all this OMFG *melts*
His determination to take over Fuji and make Fuji his and his only and Fuji only seeing him (...I find myself rooting for Ryoma. Naturally) is OMG *wibbles*
Mmm, loving the Ryoma perspective here. Cute, confused Ryoma is wonderful and adorable but this Ryoma you're portraying here, the one playing a dangerous game with Fuji, another master at the game, and the whole subtley triumphant feel at each point he gains (I also really love how you manage to intertwine tennis into this), it's so addictive.
I want more, so much more. *wibbles with starry eyes in your direction*
I was so worried in the beginning that Ryoma may only have been playing with Fuji, just to test things out and to get Fuji to stop looking at him like that, dammit, but I was so glad when his want for Fuji came in and this is so bloody different and, yes, I overuse the word, but addictive and *wibbly*.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-27 04:58 am (UTC)I think it is pretty different...I was completely shocked to have someone think that I might have stolen an idea from someone else, because I've never seen anyone take this angle on it before. *snugs* Hopefully I won't disappoint you with the conclusion!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-28 06:44 am (UTC)Well, the title is quite like the other story, and the concept of Fuji liking Tezuka first was there, but this story of yours has evidently taken quite a different turn.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-27 04:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-06 04:09 pm (UTC)