[chamonix]
Title: Just Like Suicide
ID: [chamonix]
Word count: 3,500
Character(s) or pairing(s): Fuji Shuusuke / Tezuka Kunimitsu
Author's Note: There is no suicide in this story.
The sun had barely begun to rise when Tezuka blearily opened his eyes, not really looking anywhere beyond the curve of Fuji's shoulder. Their fire was burning low, but it would keep for another hour. He shifted closer to Fuji, mindlessly placing a kiss on the exposed arm, and settled back down to sleep.
No matter how much he tried, Tezuka couldn't get out of the habit of waking early. Back in Japan, he'd already be on his way to work, getting ready to hand out badly-made, over-priced Starbucks coffee to the never-ending stream of faceless, annoying people.
It wasn't his idea of a dream job, but they asked no questions when he applied a week into his last year of high school and paid enough to cover his share of the rent. Fuji worked two buildings down from him, cold-calling the nation's elderly in an attempt to scam them out of their money for a variety of dubious reasons. Tezuka had a feeling that Fuji could make more from commissions than he did, firmly believing Fuji could convince just about anyone of anything, but he hated the job, and never tried beyond an avoidance of being fired.
"Kunimitsu," Fuji murmured, half-asleep, "how's the fire?"
"It's getting low." Tezuka tried to get up to add more wood, but was stalled when Fuji burrowed further into his arms. "I can hardly fix it now."
"'sokay." Fuji smiled a little, kissing his chest, and pretended to sleep. Pretending to sleep led to either actual sleep or sex; Tezuka didn't have a preference for the outcome.
It was over an hour later when he and Fuji finally untangled and got ready for the day.
"It seems we have to do work today…" Fuji said, taking in the thinning stack of wood and dwindling fruit supply. "I guess this means I'm going to miss my favorite part of the day."
Fuji's favorite part of the day was watching him fish. Lacking a proper fishing pole, Tezuka relied on a badly-handcrafted spear and spent many hours poking at the sand until whatever fish with a death wish floated along and allowed him to spear it. It amused Fuji to no end to watch him, especially when he slipped on the algae or stepped on rocks.
"Zeroshiki-san is not overly long, Syusuke. You can find me, I'm sure." Fuji had insisted on naming the island, informing him that they do better with an identity. When Tezuka had asked exactly what islands did, Fuji only smiled and suggested they call the island after Echizen. Sometimes Fuji could be a delightful companion, charming and funny, and everything Tezuka ever wanted. Other times, like then, Fuji acted like a complete ass, and happily so. They hadn't so much agreed on the current name for the island as Tezuka just accepted the first choice that didn't make his eye-twitch.
Laughing, Fuji grabbed a sack and their small make-shift hatchet and walked off toward a copse of trees. "Have a good time fishing!"
Strangely enough, Tezuka now welcomed the mockery in the statement. He had probably gone insane and hadn't even noticed it happening. This, he supposed, was probably the case with most people who’d gone mad.
His current life was such an antithesis to his old one that he hardly believed it. They were both expelled on the first day of their last year of high school. Some traumatized first year walked in on them sharing a kiss in the locker room after a late practice match. Everyone had already left, so they had let down their guard, kissed a bit, not counting on someone coming back for forgotten homework.
That had been bad enough, but worse was after the school had informed their families. Fuji's family simply disinherited him and asked him to leave, but Tezuka’s grandfather had insisted that he be officially disowned. He and Fuji managed to stay at Fuji's sister's place for two months while they worked and saved up enough to rent a 4.5 tatami mat flat from a toothless old lady with bad breath and poor vision. It was in a terrible part of Yokohama, where they decided to move in order to avoid accidental familiar run-ins, three buildings down from a whorehouse.
It had taken them six years to save for this vacation. Both in the unfortunate position so many found themselves in, that of eking out a living by working themselves to death, with no time or energy to better their circumstances. They woke up every morning, worked, came home, ate, read, fucked, slept and woke up the next morning to do it all over again. They couldn't afford a television or computer and didn't have enough time or money to continue playing tennis. They budgeted money to allow for a small trip to the bookstore once a month, which was made easier by the fact that they had nothing resembling a social life to compete for their negligible disposable income. Their old friends had all but abandoned them. Only Inui still kept in some semblance of touch with them, updating their contact information once a year.
Tezuka supposed it shouldn't have been a surprise, but the reactions of their so-called friends were. Echizen was the only one that didn't care they were gay, but he also was living in America and not in any place to defend anyone. Oishi was suitably horrified in a suitably Oishi fashion, casting him strange looks until he couldn't stand being in the same room. Kikumaru was a lot more vocal…and crude. Fuji and he had words, none of which Tezuka heard, but he could guess given the way Fuji returned home to him with his lips pressed thin and posture stiff. Kawamura refused to look Fuji in the eye, and silently refused to serve them at his shop. The only feelings Tezuka concerned himself with were Fuji's, and he focused on getting them out of Tokyo, and also not close to any of their previous rivals as well. There was no need to make things worse for themselves.
They had saved up for a cruise. A nice package deal with meals included. They'd sail about for a week and come home ready to head back to their routine, only this time after learning what it meant to enjoy life. Then they changed the depart date to a day early, making it impossible for them to make it. However, Fuji, using the powers of persuasion he rarely used on the job, managed to convince the owner to allow them to be transported to the ship via a small transport boat.
That's where Satou Yuusuke came into it. Satou Yuusuke was a short, balding man in his late thirties, who was hired to ferry them from the bay to the cruise ship. Fuji and Tezuka had boarded the tiny vessel with Tezuka's good luggage-the only possession they had worth anything-and a small amount of food. They fell asleep an hour into the trip and woke up to the boat taking on water and Satou passed out over the now-sinking starboard bow, empty bottle in his hand.
Where Satou was now was anybody's guess, most likely at the bottom of the ocean. Tezuka and Fuji hopped a ride on Tezuka's floating luggage and ended up landing on the newly-dubbed Zeroshiki Island four days later next to a small section of the boat. They spread out all the items they could find on the shore and Tezuka, for the first time, was grateful that Fuji always packed like they were moving. Meals may have been included in the price of the ship, but snacks weren't. Fuji had packed enough canned coffee and snack food for two weeks. He also packed two spare blankets and enough condoms and lubricant to make Tezuka wonder if Fuji had brought along an extra lover or two for their vacation. Despite all the extras, and the small store of food found in the hull of the boat, they barely had enough to live on beyond a few weeks, even if they rationed.
Tezuka had a wealth of knowledge about useless survival skills such as how to make smoke signals, but those were only good if someone cared that you were missing in the first place. Fuji thought it was hardly worth the effort, and he secretly agreed. Living on an uninhabited island could hardly be worse than being a franchise coffee automaton or a soulless bastard telemarketer. There was only one source of fresh water on the island, the trees were limited, and there were only three types of fruit they deemed edible, but the prospect of dying there, bleached bones on the sand, seemed a lot more palatable than going back.
Tezuka managed to catch five fish, a new record, and was busy cooking them when Fuji returned. "Syusuke," Tezuka greeted, poking the fish with a stick. This method of cooking was only a slight improvement of poking fish with a spatula. Neither he nor Fuji were great cooks, but he could generally muddle through enough to avoid giving them both food poisoning. Well, except for that one time with the salmon mousse.
"I think I found some satoimo root." Fuji held up his findings for Tezuka's inspection. He immediately got to his feet, thrilled with Fuji's discovery. If he allowed himself to dwell on it, he'd have to admit how pathetic that was, but he didn't care. "Yes, where did you find it?"
"A few meters to the left of the lake…There was a small field of them." Fuji smiled at the root in his hand, pleased. It made Tezuka's belly squirm despite the banality of the event. It was so rare to see that smile.
That night, after dinner, Fuji allowed him to press him up against a tree, and fuck him until the tree trunk creaked with the strain.
"Do you think anyone misses us?" Fuji asked weeks later. "Or do you think no one noticed beyond a few vacant positions and a missing rent check?"
Tezuka didn't want to hazard a guess. He highly doubted anyone in his family knew-or cared-about him any longer. They'd not seen or spoken to each other since he was seventeen and his grandfather was quite clear about the dead to him already principle. His father looked everywhere but at him and his mother wept quietly in a handkerchief. Eventually, Fuji adopted him into his family registry and became Tezuka's only family, officially, though he still wasn't used to being referred to as Fuji.
"I think Inui will be grateful that he can't find us anymore. It'll let him off the hook…Perhaps Yumiko? But, she might have known we'd end up here in the first place. Yuuta would probably laugh if he knew where we were." It was the first time Fuji had mentioned his brother by name in over three years. The last time he'd used it was calling after the boy when they'd run into him at the aquarium. Yuuta pretended that they didn't exist-which was technically true, he supposed. Personally, Tezuka didn't care if anyone missed them-he certainly did not miss anyone anymore-and he doubted Fuji truly did either, but it did worry him to hear Fuji ramble. It usually meant something else was bothering him.
"What is it, Syusuke, really, that's bothering you?" Tezuka didn't feel up to coaxing whatever was wrong out of Fuji in the horribly time-consuming, roundabout way Fuji usually required. This time, he just wanted to know what it was so he could fix it. Due to desire and circumstance, Fuji's wellbeing and happiness was his top concern.
"Is it enough?" Fuji said, gesturing vaguely to himself and then around them. "I mean…before, yeah, it was just me and you for eight years…but now it's really just me and you."
"I never saw that as a burden, Syusuke," Tezuka replied honestly, now feeling the freedom to discuss their situation freely for the first time. "If I had been granted an option, I would have still chosen my same path. Granted, I do sometimes wish we managed to complete high school. However, I don't want to live with regrets."
Fuji smiled brightly at him and sidled up close, allowing Tezuka to embrace him tightly. It made him wonder just why Fuji was worried about it now. Even when he wanted to spike the whipped cream supply with laxative, quit his job in grand fashion, before striking it out as the newest panhandler on the street, he'd never once blamed Fuji and never stopped looking forward to going home to see him.
"It's a good thing, too," Fuji said after a moment. "The dating pool here is quite limited. Unless you've been keeping the real reason you like fishing so much from me."
"Fish…how would one…exactly what about fish is…" Tezuka struggled to ask anything that resembled something not completely insane, but couldn't even find the words.
Fuji turned to face him, grinning mischievously at him. "Well, for one, their mouths are like this…" Fuji did a terrible impression of a fish mouth opening and closing...reminding him vaguely of that Horio boy whenever anything ever happened ever during his school years.
"…what are you doing?" Tezuka choked down a small chuckle that threatened to emerge when Fuji added squirming around on the sand to the mouth movements.
Sitting up next to him, Fuji ran his finger down Tezuka's chest, stopping at the waistband of his swim trunks. "I am trying to seduce you, dummy."
That explained a lot, actually. Fuji was never seductive when he tried, and always managed to ensnare his attention at the most inopportune moments. Like right after that fateful practice match…Fuji had entered the locker room, tired and sweaty from their match, and shot him a happy look from over his shoulder, and invited him out for some tea. His muscles had been warm and loose from the match-which Fuji actually had bothered to try to win-and the way Fuji's sweat-dampened hair stuck to his cheeks made Tezuka move before his brain could take into consideration where they were.
Fuji was giving him that look again. That look that meant sand in places Tezuka hadn't previously known existed and the slight tingling in his belly grew warmer. He might not have chosen this exact life, but he wasn't complaining anymore either.
Getting to his feet, Tezuka followed Fuji to where their make shift lean-to and was neatly tacked to the ground. Fuji hovered over him, hair falling onto Tezuka's. This close, he could see the faint lines around Fuji's eyes and mouth. He traced the curve of Fuji's lip with his finger until Fuji opened up and curled his tongue around the digit, sucking it into his mouth, biting down lightly.
"I hope no one ever finds us," Fuji whispered, then, and leant forward, capturing Tezuka's lips in a kiss. It was slow, hot. Fuji's lips moved roughly against his own, tongue tasting every inch of his mouth. Fuji's fingers were wrapped in his hair in a tightening grip. His hands found their way down Fuji's torso, coming to a rest on the slight curve of his hips.
The warmth in his belly spread, like it always did when Fuji reminded him just why he never craved anyone else's presence. "I'm of the same mind."
"Always such a sweet talker, Kunimitsu." Fuji pulled back slightly, kissed the tip of his nose, his eyelid, his cheek, and laughed softly in his ear. The sun was low on the horizon and the night time wind breezed through Fuji's hair.
Fuji shifted, tugging his shorts down his legs and tossed them somewhere behind him. He knelt between Tezuka's legs, pushing his own shorts down to mid-thigh before getting to his feet, allowing the shorts to fall the rest of the way and kicking them aside. Fuji moved knelt once more, rubbing circles on the soft skin of his inner thighs. Tezuka only had a moment to breathe before Fuji's mouth covered the head of his cock, slowly taking in his entire length.
"Ahh," Tezuka moaned, trying to stifle the sound despite not having to worry about the neighbors any longer. "Syusuke…"
Fuji cupped his balls, licking the underside of his cock as he slowly mouthed up and down on his cock. The slick, wet sounds of Fuji's lips on skin sent a ripple down his spine. Every single time Fuji did this, his spine threatened to melt and dissolve into nothing. He reached down, tangling his hands in the hair that tickled the tops of his thighs, and fought off a tremble when Fuji moaned in response.
Clenching his fists, Tezuka tried not move, to let Fuji devour him, but his head was swimming and Fuji was doing nothing but provoke the waves of pleasure until they were threatening to crash down on him. Hips moving, Fuji moaned around his length, vibrations rippling across his cock, and he pushed into Fuji's mouth, barely aware of anything but sensation. Fuji swallowed him further, burying his nose in Tezuka's hair. It was then that Fuji dug his nails into the skin of Tezuka's thighs, and everything stopped, air gone, and all that remained was haze of pleasure.
Fuji sat up, then, licking the corner of his mouth with his tongue. Tezuka couldn't do anything beyond staring at the way the light reflected off his glistening lips, but he really didn't want to see anything else, either. He let his legs fall open, allowing Fuji to stick one of his handmade pillows underneath Tezuka's hips.
"Kunimitsu," Fuji leaned forward, murmured his name in his ear, looking him straight in the eyes. "I want you."
Just as Tezuka couldn't imagine allowing anyone else to do this to him, he couldn't imagine not doing this with Fuji. Wet fingers pressed gently against him, pushing into him, making hard again with need. Fuji lay down along the length of his body, lips tangled in a messy, wet kiss as he thrust two fingers inside him, fucking him until the entirety of his body was on edge again. After what seemed like forever, Fuji moved back between his legs, slowly inching his cock inside of him.
Fuji stilled, and just looked down at him with that smile. Tezuka chest thudded, words caught in his throat. Instead, he let his hands travel slowly up Fuji's body, his back, and tangled them in the damp hair at the base of Fuji's neck. "Syusuke…"
They were still for a moment. And in that moment, every single touch they shared-from the very first-ran through his mind. They'd been on that island for who knew how long, but it struck him then just how little he missed other people, about how necessary Fuji was for him, his survival. A bone-deep necessity, trumping every other emotion he'd ever had. Fuji licked his neck, then, suckling at his earlobe while he whispered nonsensical things in Tezuka's ear.
Arching his back, Tezuka wrapped one leg around Fuji's waist, pressing him close. The slow build of pressure inside of him kept him teetering on the brink. Fuji leaned down, kissed his mouth, his neck, hips thrusting at a frantic pace, moaning in his ear until every sense of Tezuka's was surrounded by everything Fuji. Then, he came, again, body and arms clenching down around Fuji, holding him tight with a refusal to let go. There was the faintest of pulsing inside of him and Fuji's sharp intake of breath in his ear. Fuji relaxed against him, not bothering to pull out or move off Tezuka's body. Which suited him just fine.
Fuji woke him early the next morning by poking his side with increasing pressure until he managed to open one eye to glare at him.
"What, pray tell, is so important?" Tezuka asked, vaguely annoyed at the morning for happening so soon after a night in which Fuji did not allow him much rest or sleep.
Sitting up, Fuji looked around. "Have you seen my trunks?"
This time, Tezuka couldn't hold back a small chuckle. "I'm not bothered by your current state of dress."
Fuji looked at him for a moment before laughing brightly. "Yes, but if I dress like this all the time, where's the mystery?"
"I hardly think that's an issue," Tezuka replied. "It's right here." He tapped Fuji's forehead twice, knowing it would be a miracle if he ever truly figured out what went on in Fuji's head.
Fuji was about to reply when he stilled, staring up into the sky. "Oh…"
Turning, Tezuka followed Fuji's line of sight to a small aircraft steadily approaching their direction. He looked back at Fuji's face, question hanging in the air between them.
Getting to his feet, Tezuka picked up the nearby pail of water, and put out their fire.
With a dizzying smile, Fuji reached for his hand, and walked towards the woods and the safety of the canopy of the trees. "I'll show you where I found that patch of satoimo root."