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10_passions [Tenipuri][TezuFuji][theme #5] your law of gravity
Nov. 2nd, 2005 03:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisI have just created a character whose personality can only be explained as "the unholy gay lovechild of Sengoku and Fai, with ADD"
I should be throughly ashamed of myself, but I'm too amused to care at the moment.
And for the record NO I AM NOT POSTING THE NANO STUFF IT SUCKS MORE THAN A SLUTTY UKE IN A BL GAME BEGONE I REFUSE.
This was mostly finished eariler in the month. I wanted to finish them before NaNo started, yet was sick. If I do not post them, my soul will be eaten D:
Title: your law of gravity
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
measuringlife
Fandom: Tenipuri
Pairing: Tezuka+Fuji
Rating: PG
Thematic: 5. His Place
Approximate Word count: 1,228
Disclaimer: I have a general disclaimer at the top of my journal and fic journal where everything eventually gets archived.
Gravity - Vienna Teng Lyrics quoted in the beginning = not mine. ConCrit very encouraged.
this is the fate you’ve carved on me, your law of gravity,
–
A near-ancient mobile hangs above Fuji’s bed, the paper-mache is faded, a mustard orange sun surrounded by multicolor misshapen orbs that follow its path in creaking, halting circles.
They follow in even, unending circles around this larger orbicular object, pulled in by a charismatic force for reasons they can’t even say.
It has been there ever since 3rd grade, the same year Yuuta became obsessed with planets and put glow in the dark stars all over his ceiling and walls, they would lie awake and piece together new constellations and give name to old ones.
Memory fades, burning into something more filtered and less coherent, something with a golden sheen and falling like sunlight into twilight.
Fuji smiles, something softer and more nostalgic than his usual fare.
And he remembers high school, they followed Tezuka without asking why, merely knowing it was right, merely knowing it’s what they needed to do.
–
Truth is a variable answer, Fuji would say. Or not say, just think and smile while others were foolish and let their secrets fly with careless speech.
He always kept his secrets secure, safely hidden. Things were just that much simpler when kept from words.
He holds certain secrets close, of elegance, grace, things he knows that are so cherished, that to speak them would be blasphemy. Some things are holier when left unspoken – when left from the negligence of it being formed into words, just kept abstract and hallowed.
Truth was what you could make of it, he would say. Tezuka disagrees.
Then show me something true. he says, between temperatures that could range from sunny to beating rain in the same frequency of moods.
It was sunny that morning (he was smiling)
It rained later on. (And his skin was cold to the touch and his tone was even colder.)
–
Yet he knows the truth, this variable answer: Tezuka is theirs.
Fuji knows he does not own Tezuka and that he cannot be owned, cannot be taken, only accepted, that there are limits to anyone’s knowledge.
Throughout their years in Seigaku, Tezuka remains the unattainable goal, and he dares them to reach that place. I will walk ahead, making a trail for you to follow
–
They win the nationals, not with ease but with determination.
The last match was one by a mere one shot, one flick of the wrist and one shift of the wind to his side. Luck, perhaps, or the special kind of luck that comes with tenacity, the luck that comes with trying.
Tezuka didn’t smile as he accepted the victory, for he kept his emotions to himself like childhood secrets, feelings never told, words never said.
Fuji did smile for he liked the premise that he had no secrets, nothing to hide. The exact opposite was true.
–
Tezuka is the first to go pro. Ryoma follows soon after.
He plays because he loves to play, he plays to set an example, he lives to play, sometimes Fuji thinks that he plays to live. Or maybe just because he’s forgotten how to play or that the world doesn’t end at the sides of concrete courts and games of skill and life summarized by a simple circular, fuzzy ball.
Ryoma follows in his footsteps, always chasing after the secret that Tezuka never quite told him, only said follow me, surpass me, and you’ll find what you’re looking for. Become what I am, walk in my footsteps but surmised into a parable of sorts, something enigmatic and confusing so that Ryoma never quite learned the complete meaning,
So Ryoma follows.
And Fuji basks in the light left behind. Fallowing in disuse and at times glimpsing rackets held tightly, like life slipping through his hands.
–
Some things can’t be owned, only admired from afar. To own them would be to destroy them,
something Fuji learned long ago from habits of saving wild birds and putting them in cages until their wounds would heal. They could not survive without the wide open skies, could not take a life without freedom.
Fuji wonders if Tezuka could survive without the open courts underneath his feet, or if he would die from oxygen depravation, if his lungs would feel so caged that they would cease to rise and fall.
–
“Ah, hello Tezuka. It’s been awhile.” Fuji says, pushing into the white room where the interview was scheduled to take place. “I’m filling in for someone else, she’s sick you see”
And Fuji took the incentive, finding angles where light hits his hair and just complemented the lighting, implementing various props into this (“move that pillow over there, will you– yes there”)
“How do you feel about this?” Tezuka asks, his voice, and expression unchanging.
“It’s a job, I enjoy it.” Fuji says shortly, moving back into position. Tezuka didn’t smile for the pictures, Fuji didn’t ask him to.
In the silence that falls between Fuji checking the film, and Tezuka waiting for the journalist, somewhere along this time, their eyes meet.
“Tell me, Fuji. Why do you play?” Tezuka asked, though the proper question to be asked would be “why don’t you play?” Fuji could have given his rackets up for charity or to a fellow family member for all he knew.
Shaking off the urge to give a flippant “who knows?”, instead he gives the truth, nothing less for
Tezuka demands nothing more.
“Because I can, I suppose? It’s never been something I thought about.”
“Why did you start playing tennis? To what goal are you trying to attain?” It feels as if Tezuka can see right through the layers of skin into his desires, as if somehow Tezuka has perfected the art of mind-reading and can even tell the wants, needs and insecurities of a former Seigaku tensai, now part-time photographer, part-time jack of all trades.
“To reach a place? No, to reach a person” Fuji smiles then, thinking Tezuka probably already knew, for he always seems to know these things, seems to know the inner workings of the human heart, or at least his own which beat like clockwork, ticking and gears all leading him towards something indelible, something he couldn’t let himself let go of.
“Aaa. I understand.”
–
Some things can’t be resisted.
Some things are unescapable, as futile as swimming against a rushing current that would sweep you away, some things cannot be left behind.
His reasonings are different. He plays again, and he loses and loves every moment of it (their score was still close, and Fuji reminds him of this, even after all this time, I’m still close behind you)
Tezuka still sets the example for everyone else to follow, now more than just his former circle of Seigaku, he seems endless in the way he stands and the sunlight like a someone who will never truly lose his hold. Like someone born to change the shift of those around him,
Tezuka still beats out the path, sets forth the events which even they knew so long ago.
And Fuji follows.
–
hey love, I am a constant satellite, of your blazing sun. I obey your law of gravity
I should be throughly ashamed of myself, but I'm too amused to care at the moment.
And for the record NO I AM NOT POSTING THE NANO STUFF IT SUCKS MORE THAN A SLUTTY UKE IN A BL GAME BEGONE I REFUSE.
This was mostly finished eariler in the month. I wanted to finish them before NaNo started, yet was sick. If I do not post them, my soul will be eaten D:
Title: your law of gravity
Author:
measuringlifeFandom: Tenipuri
Pairing: Tezuka+Fuji
Rating: PG
Thematic: 5. His Place
Approximate Word count: 1,228
Disclaimer: I have a general disclaimer at the top of my journal and fic journal where everything eventually gets archived.
Gravity - Vienna Teng Lyrics quoted in the beginning = not mine. ConCrit very encouraged.
this is the fate you’ve carved on me, your law of gravity,
–
A near-ancient mobile hangs above Fuji’s bed, the paper-mache is faded, a mustard orange sun surrounded by multicolor misshapen orbs that follow its path in creaking, halting circles.
They follow in even, unending circles around this larger orbicular object, pulled in by a charismatic force for reasons they can’t even say.
It has been there ever since 3rd grade, the same year Yuuta became obsessed with planets and put glow in the dark stars all over his ceiling and walls, they would lie awake and piece together new constellations and give name to old ones.
Memory fades, burning into something more filtered and less coherent, something with a golden sheen and falling like sunlight into twilight.
Fuji smiles, something softer and more nostalgic than his usual fare.
And he remembers high school, they followed Tezuka without asking why, merely knowing it was right, merely knowing it’s what they needed to do.
–
Truth is a variable answer, Fuji would say. Or not say, just think and smile while others were foolish and let their secrets fly with careless speech.
He always kept his secrets secure, safely hidden. Things were just that much simpler when kept from words.
He holds certain secrets close, of elegance, grace, things he knows that are so cherished, that to speak them would be blasphemy. Some things are holier when left unspoken – when left from the negligence of it being formed into words, just kept abstract and hallowed.
Truth was what you could make of it, he would say. Tezuka disagrees.
Then show me something true. he says, between temperatures that could range from sunny to beating rain in the same frequency of moods.
It was sunny that morning (he was smiling)
It rained later on. (And his skin was cold to the touch and his tone was even colder.)
–
Yet he knows the truth, this variable answer: Tezuka is theirs.
Fuji knows he does not own Tezuka and that he cannot be owned, cannot be taken, only accepted, that there are limits to anyone’s knowledge.
Throughout their years in Seigaku, Tezuka remains the unattainable goal, and he dares them to reach that place. I will walk ahead, making a trail for you to follow
–
They win the nationals, not with ease but with determination.
The last match was one by a mere one shot, one flick of the wrist and one shift of the wind to his side. Luck, perhaps, or the special kind of luck that comes with tenacity, the luck that comes with trying.
Tezuka didn’t smile as he accepted the victory, for he kept his emotions to himself like childhood secrets, feelings never told, words never said.
Fuji did smile for he liked the premise that he had no secrets, nothing to hide. The exact opposite was true.
–
Tezuka is the first to go pro. Ryoma follows soon after.
He plays because he loves to play, he plays to set an example, he lives to play, sometimes Fuji thinks that he plays to live. Or maybe just because he’s forgotten how to play or that the world doesn’t end at the sides of concrete courts and games of skill and life summarized by a simple circular, fuzzy ball.
Ryoma follows in his footsteps, always chasing after the secret that Tezuka never quite told him, only said follow me, surpass me, and you’ll find what you’re looking for. Become what I am, walk in my footsteps but surmised into a parable of sorts, something enigmatic and confusing so that Ryoma never quite learned the complete meaning,
So Ryoma follows.
And Fuji basks in the light left behind. Fallowing in disuse and at times glimpsing rackets held tightly, like life slipping through his hands.
–
Some things can’t be owned, only admired from afar. To own them would be to destroy them,
something Fuji learned long ago from habits of saving wild birds and putting them in cages until their wounds would heal. They could not survive without the wide open skies, could not take a life without freedom.
Fuji wonders if Tezuka could survive without the open courts underneath his feet, or if he would die from oxygen depravation, if his lungs would feel so caged that they would cease to rise and fall.
–
“Ah, hello Tezuka. It’s been awhile.” Fuji says, pushing into the white room where the interview was scheduled to take place. “I’m filling in for someone else, she’s sick you see”
And Fuji took the incentive, finding angles where light hits his hair and just complemented the lighting, implementing various props into this (“move that pillow over there, will you– yes there”)
“How do you feel about this?” Tezuka asks, his voice, and expression unchanging.
“It’s a job, I enjoy it.” Fuji says shortly, moving back into position. Tezuka didn’t smile for the pictures, Fuji didn’t ask him to.
In the silence that falls between Fuji checking the film, and Tezuka waiting for the journalist, somewhere along this time, their eyes meet.
“Tell me, Fuji. Why do you play?” Tezuka asked, though the proper question to be asked would be “why don’t you play?” Fuji could have given his rackets up for charity or to a fellow family member for all he knew.
Shaking off the urge to give a flippant “who knows?”, instead he gives the truth, nothing less for
Tezuka demands nothing more.
“Because I can, I suppose? It’s never been something I thought about.”
“Why did you start playing tennis? To what goal are you trying to attain?” It feels as if Tezuka can see right through the layers of skin into his desires, as if somehow Tezuka has perfected the art of mind-reading and can even tell the wants, needs and insecurities of a former Seigaku tensai, now part-time photographer, part-time jack of all trades.
“To reach a place? No, to reach a person” Fuji smiles then, thinking Tezuka probably already knew, for he always seems to know these things, seems to know the inner workings of the human heart, or at least his own which beat like clockwork, ticking and gears all leading him towards something indelible, something he couldn’t let himself let go of.
“Aaa. I understand.”
–
Some things can’t be resisted.
Some things are unescapable, as futile as swimming against a rushing current that would sweep you away, some things cannot be left behind.
His reasonings are different. He plays again, and he loses and loves every moment of it (their score was still close, and Fuji reminds him of this, even after all this time, I’m still close behind you)
Tezuka still sets the example for everyone else to follow, now more than just his former circle of Seigaku, he seems endless in the way he stands and the sunlight like a someone who will never truly lose his hold. Like someone born to change the shift of those around him,
Tezuka still beats out the path, sets forth the events which even they knew so long ago.
And Fuji follows.
–
hey love, I am a constant satellite, of your blazing sun. I obey your law of gravity
