Glass in hand, Katsuyuki clumsily reached for the whiskey bottle and poured himself another measure. Such a bottle was sophisticated, with a hefty price tag to show for it, and was meant to be slowly, patiently savoured with each sip; and on another night, he wouldn't be so crass as to waste it in this fashion. But tonight, he was miserable. He tossed back the glass in one mouthful. He was already past the threshold of a dignified evening drinker and well into the territory of a sad drunk. May as well keep going.

The broadcast was paused, now several minutes behind, lingering on the image of Yuanfei. He was a little tousled, still coming down from the compound in his system and damp from a post-match shower. He must have been in a hurry from the relaxation room, not quite enough time to fully decompress. Stupid mistake from the interviewer, rushing him out like this. They didn't know how hard it was to compete in this sport, what a strain it put on the body and mind.

Tentatively, Katsuyuki lifted the remote and resumed the footage. Yuanfei, modest and gentle, looked ill at ease under the scrupulous eye of the camera, and his gaze drifted about - off into the dense crowd, directly into the lens, around the stadium - before he would catch himself and look back at the host with sheepish self consciousness. He wasn't in the swing of this big-time life yet, it seemed, but that was only natural. As his first win in the tournament, it was expected he'd be asked for an interview - and Yuanfei, used to his quiet, unassuming life out of sight of the masses, didn't seem quite prepared to handle this much attention. Even so, he'd answered his questions with an earnest charm that would undoubtedly capture the hearts of those watching.

And Katsuyuki was happy for him - he really was - but there was a bitter edge to that happiness: the sick jealousy that others would look at him with even a hint of the affection Katsuyuki felt himself. Not that they really got him, though. They didn't know him the way Katsuyuki did. They hadn't gotten close, taken the time to listen and understand like he had. Yuanfei was a little difficult like that; pleasant on the surface, but hard to pin down. He was flighty, distant, and quick to disappear when pressed. No one bothered to look any further than that; just a nice enough guy with an unreliable streak. But that wasn't him; he was mindful, careful not to get caught in the unnecessary trappings of external pressure. He cared, but he needed to be cared for in return – his light touch approach needed to be respected. The two of them weren't so different, neither suffering fools gladly; but where Katsuyuki would lash out with biting scorn, Yuanfei would simply disappear.

Just like he had done that night.

Katsuyuki poured himself another glass of whiskey and downed it. He was no better than the rest of them. He'd torn Yuanfei to shreds, little wonder he'd walked out. But still, after all they'd been through together, it hurt. No excuses, of course – but by now, didn't Yuanfei understand him too? Didn't he understand why such things had been said, why things had happened as they did? Maybe he did understand. Maybe Katsuyuki just wasn't worth the effort.

The interviewer tossed out another boilerplate question about the fight. Yuanfei mulled it over with earnest consideration, gently biting his lip in thought. Katsuyuki loved it when he did that – so charming, made all the more endearing by how blissfully unaware he was of his own appeal. And god, that charm was so hard to ignore at times.

Though he did all he could to push these thoughts down, out of mind where they could no longer chip away at his shaken ego, his steadfast denial was long gone by now – and, though it was rare to indulge in his desire, he had come to admit such thoughts of Yuanfei held an undeniable and powerful allure. But some of these fantasies still made him squirm in a discomfort anew – one even more difficult to grapple with, that tore at his pride and undermined everything he thought he knew of himself.

Katsuyuki's eyes drifted slowly across the image of Yuanfei on the screen.

His former friend's body – though svelte and graceful - was generously chiselled with lean muscle. His slim figure understated its true masculine power – one that rivalled Katsuyuki's own. When training together, Katsuyuki had fully felt that strength for himself; Yuanfei, though gentle by nature, was in no way fragile or weak. And so, Katsuyuki's god-given dominance – that he would have unquestionable, irrevocable control in some fictitious love affair with Yuanfei – was cast into some small doubt.

Though he'd never admit it, it was something he had given tentative thought; an idea to be gently, cautiously toyed with on fleeting occasions when his pride would allow it.

On rare, shameful nights, he had allowed himself to indulge in embarrassing fantasies; of exploring his friend's body; of feeling, tasting, penetrating. And, on rarer nights, he would fantasise of the opposite. Daring to flirt with such unlikely scenarios as reciprocated feelings, surely, as a man, Yuanfei would – hypothetically – have those same urges. And, while Katsuyuki didn't dare to even picture the visceral image of being dominated, he couldn't deny the unusual thrill of imagining eliciting such feelings of desire in Yuanfei's mind; that he himself, within Yuanfei's deepest, darkest fantasies, would be violated, vulnerable and used.

However, when reason reared its joyless head again, the thrill wore off, leaving instead a stinging realization; between two men, how could such desire ever work? Even if, unlikely as it was, Yuanfei longed for him in the same way, there was no way to reconcile the desires of both to dominate.

But even if, somehow, they could? If they could find a way to make it work... What then?

That was even worse. Such a thing between them would be radioactive, destructive to everything they'd worked to build in their lives. Their careers could be over in an instant, torn down through ridicule by unforgiving, hysterical masses. And if his father found out...

It couldn't work. And to have to tell that to Yuanfei, to crush him and tear his heart to pieces the way he felt in this moment... No, it was better this way. Unrequited feelings were far easier.

However, for now, with caution and reason dulled by alcohol, his mind meandered restlessly through hazy fantasies with his friend, moving in erratic circles: To share a cigarette and a heart-to-heart on a quiet evening; to train together, feeling his lithe body pressed against his own; to lock their bedroom door and spend the whole day in passionate embrace, unravelling months of mounting tension; god, to just talk to him again. A phone call, even, just for a minute... just to get one more taste of that gentle, mellow voice. It wasn't the same, listening to some recording of him on the TV; he craved the intimacy of a mutual, personal conversation, delivered with his dulcet timbre.

Just like every other precious little thing, Katsuyuki had taken it for granted. Mild and soothing, Yuanfei spoke with none of the abrasiveness of his teammates. Despite his continued efforts to Americanize his spoken English, he retained a graceful, melodic Chinese lilt, which only added to the unique charm of his voice. The memory of his laugh, airy and relaxed, brought Katsuyuki a fleeting moment of genuine joy; a sound that he was now deeply, painfully aware of how much he missed.

His glazed eyes fell back to the television: Yuanfei's first victory for the team, with his first post-fight interview. Katsuyuki stared longingly at the image of his lost friend and sighed, his breath trembling with misery. It wasn't supposed to go this way, watching his finest moment remotely from a hundred miles away. He'd been waiting for this so intently, so excited for the day it would come, knowing his success was just around the corner, even if Yuanfei didn't believe it himself. Katsuyuki knew. He knew he was going to make it – he'd always known, always believed in him. And he had yearned to share that celebration with him – to go out that night, get drunk and loud and stupid, reveal long-suppressed feelings and fuck until the early hours of the morning. The dream played over in his head, a taunting reminder of what was forever out of reach. His chance was gone.

Katsuyuki reached for the whiskey bottle, raising it straight to his lips. Fuck the glass, he was too far gone for that.

By now, as Katsuyuki languished on the sofa, Yuanfei was probably out with the others, deep into the wild celebrations of the night. Maybe he'd found a girl to celebrate with, planning to her back to his now unshared bedroom. It had never occurred to him before, but Yuanfei didn't seem particularly occupied with that sort of thing – no mentions of a girlfriend, or of fleeting sexual encounters. But how could he, with another man sharing the same room? Katsuyuki hadn't afforded him any privacy. That was probably why; he was the problem. Now, without Katsuyuki there to stifle him, to encroach on his space and get in his way, he was free to indulge himself. Maybe he already was; amped up on the adrenaline of success and months of suppressed lust, fucking some woman he'd just met.

Or a man.

Katsuyuki reflexively winced. Somehow, the sting of that thought was even sharper. At least, he reasoned, Yuanfei wasn't gay, so such a thing wouldn't be possible. The thought was a bittersweet comfort; if he couldn't have him, at least no other man could either.

Shame the same couldn't also be said about women, though. His lip curled in contempt.

Katsuyuki was happy for him. Really, truly, he was. He just despised the parasites that crept around him, those that didn't understand him and didn't care to try, but still freely indulged in his kind, gentle nature – while Katsuyuki was left in the dust, nothing more than a bad memory.

But he was happy for Yuanfei.

He reached into his pocket for his phone. Finding his friend's name in the list, he clumsily started to type out a message, fingers stumbling on the keys.

Cojgrat

God damn it.

Thiught I sjould say cingrats

Katsuyuki sighed wearily and erased the message. Even if he could correctly type out the fucking thing, it was clearly a bad idea. Yuanfei didn't want to hear it. He was gone, out of his life, and surely that was for the better. Just look at him: he was thriving, finally claiming a commendable win on the stage. He didn't need Katsuyuki; he was doing better without him. Why drag him back down again?

The phone tumbled put of his hands onto the floor. He folded his elbows over the sofa's armrest and buried his face into them, sheltering himself from the harsh, cruel reality of it all. His body, was heavy and limp, weighed down with misery and alcoholic fatigue. His eyes started to blur over - maybe just the late night call of sleep catching up to him, or perhaps tears welling up, inhibitions weakened from his drunken stupor - it was hard to focus, his head was swimming. It was just now becoming clear how much he'd really had to drink.

Slowly, his eyes began to close, unable to fight off the urge any longer. Hopefully this miserable night would be forgotten by the time he woke up; just another blacked out blur, memories of grief and longing safely put away until next time.