'Lion' - [Reita/Uruha] 1/?
Oct. 12th, 2010 03:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
colberryTitle: Lion
Description: When Uruha said he'd like to experience the simpler, innocent feeling of childhood again in his now-hectic life, this wasn't what he had in mind.
Chapter: 1/?
Pairings: Reita/Uruha, Aoi/Ruki
Genre: Fluff, slight crack, romance, drama
Rating: PG-13
Notes: This idea was stuck in my head for some time. And then this first chapter was sitting in my documents for some time too while I was still posting Violet Pulse. Anyways, I needed a little fluff in my life (which is being devoured by college madness...) so here comes this piece! I'm also doing a slight side project for the spooky month of October so beware of weird, not-as-consistent updates. Hope you all enjoy <33
01
It wasn't like it was a particularly hard, gruesome, mind-numbing day. However, his bones still somehow ached by the end of it. Uruha let his fingers press into the cold sweat of his lager, blisters sighing in relief. The bustle of the bar the five of them had stumbled into (with the misinformation that it was a family restaurant, but they had collapsed into the booth anyway because didn't a beer sound so much fucking better than a burger right now?) swam like a fickle, lazy current in their ears. Slow wafts of idle chat, clinking glasses and distant laughter sliced periodically into their conversation about nothing in particular.
Uruha slid his fingers down the neck of the bottle and closed his eyes.
Reita's voice was somewhere to his left, amused and slightly impish, "So, you're telling me... that you can tell the exact qualities of a person just by looking at their shoes."
Uruha could almost touch the mirth in Reita's baritone, his oldest friend and roommate bumping into his shoulder slightly in silent jest. There was a huff of impatient breath and suddenly a loud thump on top of the table. Uruha didn't have to open his eyes to know that Ruki had just plopped his foot on the surface, the soft exclamation from Aoi dictating that his sake was at a close-range risk.
"It's all right here. Snake skin says I'm adventurous, creative, brash -- maybe a little precocious -- " Kai guffawed, "But the white says I'm an open canvas, waiting and offering to change, but afraid of risk just as much as I thrive off of it."
Reita, clearly past the point of intellectual discussion with the three and a half beers lining his side of the table, drawled, "And the way you wear a size bigger than you need says that you're compensating for something a little north of your feet...?"
Aoi giggled -- Uruha noted that it was indeed not a chuckle with the way the man's tenor voice broke off, and the way he was always a lightweight.
But Ruki seemed to let the comment roll off his pink-blazer clad shoulders as he slid his foot off the table, "Show me yours then."
"I'm not whipping it out."
"C'mon, just show me."
"I'm not comfortable with you ogling it like that."
"Fuck, Reita, just fucking show me your -- "
"Guys, are we still talking about the wonderful world of shoes?" Kai's exasperated question poked in somewhere from the far right.
Ruki must have been rolling his eyes, and pointedly ignored Aoi's excited exclamation of 'Mine, mine! What about mine?' "Fine. I'll just get Uruha to show me."
Uruha's eyes snapped open, realizing that he was being jerked back into this eccentric bundle of nonsense known as his friends and sorta-kinda-colleagues. "Huh?"
Ruki was looking at him with a wide smile and anticipating eyes, blue contacts shining eerily in the dim lighting of the bar, "Show me your shoes."
Uruha whipped his head to the left, silently asking Reita for confirmation on this inane request. The older man just shrugged, already nursing a half-empty fourth beer, "Just grant the little monster his wish."
With Aoi leaning in with interest, Kai regarding the scene with an arm slung back over his chair and Reita being no help whatsoever, Uruha crinkled his brow before gingerly lifting a foot to place on the edge of the table.
Ruki immediately dove in, almost knocking over Aoi's drink again which said man, panic-stricken, swiped just in time before a catastrophe met the vocalist's bejeweled blazer. His eyes honed in on Uruha's shoes with uncanny attention and the guitarist self-consciously curled his toes inside the worn Chuck Taylors.
A minute of absolute silence, save Reita's thirsty gulps, passed over the group before Ruki leaned back in his seat, satisfied, and crossed his arms.
"Just as I suspected."
Uruha quickly pulled his foot off the table, catching the bartender's disapproving glare sheepishly, "What?"
Ruki nodded his head sagely, "A true 'my-pace' guy, what else?" For a split second, the sloshed Ruki appeared sober, "The grass stains say you're carefree, walking through grass unlike a normal person who would use the sidewalk. And those frayed shoelaces say you're a guy who keeps the past close to him -- "
"What the fuck does that have to do with his laces?"
Ruki glared at Reita's lackadaisical pondering, "Why else would he keep such ratty shoes?"
Uruha thought he should probably feel offended, but he stared unto his beer instead, listening.
Ruki continued, "You obviously desire some sort of your past. At least more simplicity or whatever. Your shoes themselves are simple, practical, something you'd wear on the playground more than you'd wear to work."
The taller man felt Reita brush against his shoulder again, something passing between them that only a fifteen-year history could allow. He heard Aoi hum thoughtfully while Kai voiced the actual thought, "That actually... sounds about right."
Ruki's sagely countenance clattered to the ground as he grinned haughtily, launching from his chair yet again to point a black-nailed finger to Reita's apathetic figure as he slurred, "Your face? IN IT!"
Uruha barely heard the scoff from the blond-haired man beside him, too busy turning Ruki's words over and glancing furtively at his shoes. He watched as the pathetic looking things toed the ground almost guiltily. Days did seem to be getting harder, in the way that constant work always did begin to drain passion and wear away at the mind. However, with the recent backlash from disgruntled fans bearing down upon them before their now-infamous single was even released, a considerable amount of gloom had taken root in the studio.
He supposed sometime between working and rehashing the B Melodies and collapsing into the dilapidated cushions of his and Reita's couch, he had been unconsciously longing for the past -- where the world seemed so vast, ripe and carefree.
Now, meetings of management clogged whatever free spirit had been roaming in his soul. The near-constant whir of laptops echoed in his eardrum from each one of them checking and rechecking blogs -- trying desperately to find a positive reaction to what they were doing, to gauge what had gone wrong.
Uruha picked at a loose thread on his sleeve cuff, the sounds of Ruki's raucous laughter and Aoi's mock-affronted tone warbled as he continued to think. Looking up slightly and past the fringe of his bangs, watching his bandmates becoming dorks of the highest degree, Uruha felt a stab in his stomach when he realized that it was the first time they were all together, laughing, in over a month.
Uruha wrinkled his brow. That was just --
"Hey, you feel sick? You look pale."
Reita's low voice snapped Uruha out of his thoughts. Turning his head towards the older man, he blinked owlishly. The bassist only smirked slightly before reaching out a hand to ruffle his friend's auburn hair, "Let's step outside then, okay? I don't think I want to witness Ruki's strip-tease anyways."
Uruha whipped back around to see that indeed the aureate-haired vocalist was beginning to shed his blazer in what he thought to be a provocative manner. He only succeeded in elbowing Aoi in the face.
Before he could watch Aoi's temper ignite and Kai's mother-hen wings sprout, Reita was dragging him across the bar to the door.
Once outside, the other man stepped away from Uruha, digging in his pockets for a cigarette. Uruha found himself almost stumbling backwards as he went to lean against the brick wall. He tilted his head up and breathed in heavily, the crisp night air painting across his lungs. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the now blatant feel of his worn shoes against his feet.
He could hear Reita mumble darkly about losing his lighter, the frantic pats of his hands on his jeans and jacket slowing down once he realized it was truly a lost cause. A sigh broke the still air and Uruha couldn't stop the words from falling out of his mouth, "Ruki was right."
"Don't let him know that."
Uruha opened his eyes and stared into Reita's chocolate orbs, "I'm sick of it, Akira."
Reita paused, sensing that this wasn't going to be a lighthearted discussion with jabs at a certain short-statured vocalist's expense. He still had the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, "What are you saying?"
Uruha could detect the traces of horror in Reita's soft question and knew what the other was thinking, "Not like that. Just... Have you ever wanted to just stop for a second?"
Reita regarded him blankly. Uruha cursed those three-and-then-some beers.
He tried again, "I love what we do. I live for it. But lately, with everything going on with the single and whatever, it's hard. I just want things to be simple again."
Reita stepped closer, hands now in his pockets and a sober glaze to his eyes, "Like when we were kids?"
Uruha nodded, suddenly feeling smaller than usual as he toed the ground, "Weird and slightly creepy to think of ourselves as kids seven years ago. But yeah. Like that. And even before that, I didn't have to worry as much and even though I used to get beat up and stuff, I had you and that's all I needed to feel better."
He let out a breath of laughter, "But now you can't save me from meetings or wonky amps or late nights at the studio second-guessing myself." Uruha paused before whispering, "You can't save me from other people's high expectations and when I don't meet them..."
Reita took another step, "Why didn't you say you were stressed? You know we can always take a break from the studio for a day or two..."
Uruha lolled his head to the side, not sure of what he was saying, but knowing he could hear his heart pulsating in his ears, "It's not that. I just... I just want to not care whether or not I'll mess up, blow our 'image', get everything thrown back in my face."
He looked up at the sky, bright stars catching his eyes, "It'd be nice to have that innocence of childhood again."
Reita watched Uruha watch the stars. Slowly, the taller man closed his eyes and began to sag against the wall. Reita immediately went to his side, hefting up the rag-doll body and sighing. Shit. I should've been making sure he wasn't getting too wasted tonight. Stupid half-off Tuesdays...
Slinging the younger man's limp arm around his shoulders, Reita silently led them back home.
Up in the sky, the stars winked.
&&
The strip-tease didn't go as well as he'd hoped. Rather than applause, he ended up with stained pants, 45000 yen in damage fees and a twisted ankle. Ruki pouted in the backseat of the cab he was sharing with Aoi, who had sobered up mighty quick when the shot glass Ruki had been using as a microphone slipped from his hand and towards his face.
Ruki was currently face-planted into his shoulder. The golden locks almost looked like a fallen sun against Aoi's black shirt. The liquor in his stomach, and perhaps the merciless thoughts that had been plaguing him for months, was making him think that maybe, if he tried really hard, he could be his sky. Aoi shook his head quickly, dismissing the rind of cheese he had just spewed from his short-circuited brain with a scoff. Besides, it was foolish to think that Ruki -- flamboyant, brash, avant-garde, sensitive, intellectual, semi-broken -- would let someone like Aoi -- bohemian, foolhardy, arrogant, serious, temperamental -- cradle his head against their chest.
Aoi pressed his forehead against the cabbie window. Tokyo lights were blurring outside and Ruki's soft giggles and slurred verbs were making bruises against his heart. He wasn't sure when this petulant yearning started. Maybe it spawned somewhere between an always-there affection and the accidental brush of the vocalist's hand against his thigh as he reached over to experimentally wiggle his guitar's whammy some months ago. Or maybe from the playful glances upon the stage, or from somewhere deep inside his internal struggle with his own sexuality. While he felt insecure, unsure, and hid from his bandmate's concerned pondering, there was Ruki -- unafraid to don gilded slacks for a radio interview.
The shorter man's breaths were close to his ear suddenly, softly blowing air against his lobe, causing Aoi to twitch violently.
"Ruki!"
Ruki cracked up, holding his stomach and tilting his head back, gleeful tears starting to slip down his cheeks -- apparently 'over' the fact that his salmon designer blazer was effectively ruined by Kai's red wine. Aoi scowled, but watched Ruki's smile. So uninhibited. It was rare to spot these days, what with the mounting work, rising expectations from fans, and slander upon slander in online blogs defacing what they do.
Aoi knew Ruki had always taken it the hardest.
"You -- Your face!"
Ruki continued to laugh and Aoi continued to marvel at his grin and glee-splattered eyes.
The taxi finally pulled up to Ruki's apartment. Aoi would have let the vocalist get out and trek up to his home by himself, if not for the way Ruki practically fell against the car door and took two minutes to get the handle open.
"Let me walk you up. I'll catch another cab."
"I will have you know that... I can handle myself perfectively. You... fucking ragamuffin."
Aoi rolled his eyes and pushed Ruki out of the cab.
They walked as best they could to the door. The night air was crisp and Aoi thought he could see his breath mingle with Ruki's as the other man stumbled into him on his threshold. The keys were jangling in his grip, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration as he tried to grasp the right one, "What are all these keys for?"
"To get in places?"
"Fuck that. Kick the door down."
"Yeah, I'll get right on that."
A squeal of victory left Ruki's mouth as he found his apartment key and proceeded to shakily direct it into the keyhole. Maybe it was the vodka he had chugged an hour before, maybe it was the melting of his mind and the burning secret he had stowed away deep inside of him surfacing, but in that moment of standing under Ruki's porch light, watching how the yellow glow hit his cheekbones with the moon hidden by surly clouds -- Aoi swore this perfect, degenerate mess beside him was beautiful.
Ruki was halfway in the door when Aoi couldn't help himself, "I think I... Let me kiss you."
There was a moment of definitive stillness. Ruki's eyes lost their glaze, a serious expression replacing the giddy pinkness of his cheeks. Somewhere, Aoi could hear the keys keep jingling, Ruki's hand probably shaking. He licked his dry lips and swallowed hard.
Ruki smiled then, the bitter quirk of his lips making his face wonderfully cynical, "Should have asked me when I was younger, Aoi-chan. I might have said yes."
The door shut.
Aoi let out the breath in his lungs and brought a hand to his mouth.
Fuck.
Up in the sky, the stars blinked.
&&&
It wasn't the feeling of being completely and utterly hungover that startled him awake in a cold sweat. It wasn't the cotton in his mouth or the remnants of a grotesque nightmare clinging to his conscious or the urgent need to puke. Although that would probably come later. What shot Reita out of bed, tangled his ankles in his sheets and catapulted him over the edge was a bloodcurdling scream.
Utterly frazzled, navy sheets constricting his torso as he tried to clamor back up, the bassist caught the glare of his alarm clock. 7:26 am.
He didn't have time to ponder as to why it was so fucking early, he was too busy having his head ring and thoughts race along the question of whether he had locked the door last night, whether he still remembered those kendo moves, whether an intruder was really that fucking insane for barging in at broad daylight. His senses were becoming overloaded with adrenaline; the scream was reaching into his bones and clearing the fog in his brain. Adorned in only a wife-beater and boxers, Reita finally managed to scramble out of his bed-entrapment and careen down the narrow hallway.
His head was swimming slightly, disorientation piercing his eyes. Nothing was making sense. Why was there screaming? Why did it sound foreign, yet completely familiar? He blinked. What? Why was it coming from Uruha's...?
Reita didn't pause, didn't stop to think of the implications as he practically threw Uruha's bedroom door off its hinges.
And then everything came into bright focus.
The world slightly stuttered. Reita froze in the doorway as the screams cut off and he was pinned by large, frightened eyes.
Because this... This was so utterly impossible.
The bedraggled child occupying Uruha's bed hiccuped, tears streaming down his face, as Reita stood there gaping. His small frame was drowned in sheets, long black hair sticking to his cheeks against those clear rivulets, lips parted in muted horror.
What. The fuck.
Reita's mind must've still been drunk. What the hell was this kid doing in Uruha's bed and where the hell was the mellow-minded guitarist? His eyes hurriedly scanned the quaint room as he tried to remember last night. Uruha passing out at the bar, carrying his sorry-ass up four flights of stairs to their apartment, depositing him into his bed. That was it. No picking up stray orphans on the side of the road...
A small whimper pulled his attention away from the blurry details to once again hone in on the child. He looked at him, really looked at him, and the tug of familiarity almost brought him to his knees.
The bowed lips. The innocent, doe eyes. The faint freckle on his lower jaw.
Reita slowly stepped forward, tentative and knowing he was insane for even asking, "Uruha?"
The child immediately scooted back into the headboard, leaning away as far as he could from the man's presence. His arms were rigid as he held onto the bedspread with all his might. Caramel eyes widened in blind fear as Reita took another step. He tried to fuse his body into the headboard behind him, bit his lip and cried out:
"W-Where am I?!"
Reita froze in mid-step, the voice of years past melting through his memories. He knew for sure then.
Oh, fuck. I must look like a fucking kidnapper.
Quickly realizing the dire and extremely suspicious situation at hand, Reita lifted his hands in peace, "It's okay. Don't be scared, okay?"
The boy only had more tears sliding down his distraught face. When he saw that Reita wasn't backing up, leaving or turning into his mother, he screwed his eyes shut and whispered, "You're scary."
The blond-haired bassist slid a hand down his face in exasperation, his fingers briefly touching the noseband he was too lazy to pull off last night. Oh. Seeing a nose-less captor might be a little traumatic...
Reita slowly, slowly stepped closer and bent his back in an effort to minimize his towering figure, "No I'm not. I promise you're okay, Uruha."
The young boy opened his eyes and trembled, "I'm not Uruha! I don't know who that is, just take me home! I want 'kira!"
Reita could almost hear his heart tear and found himself kneeling next to the quivering child, watching his fingers shake and breaths catch in his throat. He lowered his voice, whispered gently, "Kouyou, I am Akira."
Kouyou shook his head vigorously, backing away from the edge of the bed, "No, no, no! You're not 'kira! You're not my 'kira -- you're a big, scary man!"
Reita almost reached out to touch Kouyou's shoulder, the tears in the boy's throat reminding him of all those years the other was bullied and how he had muffled his sobs against his shoulder. It hurt. Despite the total 'what the fu--' of the situation, despite it making zero sense whatsoever -- Reita felt compelled to prove the boy wrong.
He sat his chin on the edge of the bed, fingers grasping at the sheets, "I am him, Kouyou. I'm just bigger, that's all. Don't you remember when we played soccer at that old field by the railroad tracks? And when we would get ice cream afterwards and I'd always have to share 'cause somebody forgot their money?"
A smile crept into his voice. Kouyou, who had curled into himself and faced away to the wall, tilted his head towards the man behind him. Reita leaned forward a bit, ignoring the total insanity he was wading through, and softly spoke, "I helped you with math and you helped me with kanji. Even though you were wrong most of the time anyway... And when we'd stay out too late, I'd walk you home and explain to your mom it was my fault," He chuckled despite himself, "Even though you were the one who whined that we had to stay out later or we'd miss shooting stars."
Kouyou met his eyes in awed silence even though his body was still angled away from the older man. Reita lost his smile, regarding the salt-marks staining the boy's innocent face, "And I tried to keep you safe from those stupid guys who made fun of you. But when I couldn't, and when it was really bad, I'd let you lean against my shoulder... And I'd tell you that you were safe with me, that you weren't alone."
A silence enveloped the two. A headache was beginning to pound behind his eyes, last night's festivities catching up with him. But he kept his gaze steady with those caramel irises. This was his friend. His best friend.
He whispered, "You're still safe with me."
Kouyou wrinkled his brow, the same puzzled expression that his older self would often make when faced with a complex guitar phrase or a particularly difficult game level. Reita almost shook his head at the haunting similarity.
It was still for a moment before Kouyou whispered back in obvious disbelief, "Akira?"
Reita gave the boy a lopsided smile, the same that used to grace his boyish face all those years ago.
Tears welled up in Kouyou's ducts (he had always been a weepy child), unable to help himself as he suddenly threw himself at his friend. He grasped at the broad shoulders and pressed his face into the hard chest. It was weird and different and totally impossible. But Kouyou knew. He knew and he raised his head and furrowed his eyebrows at his friend, pouting slightly, "You're old."
Reita smirked, "You're short."
&&
The sweet heaven of Ayumi Hamasaki's "Glitter" woke up Aoi that morning. Bleary eyes glaring at the phone on his nightstand, he contemplated whether to just 'accidentally' turn it off and blame his network for the missed call. He didn't want to wake up. Waking up meant having to remember what he said to Ruki. Waking up meant that he'd have to actually talk to Ruki again.
He lay absolutely still, wondering if his phone would get the hint. No such luck as Ayumi kept on busting a lung -- fuck, he must have been hammered not to notice Reita messing with his phone -- and Aoi groaned as he gave in.
Hand slapping atop the phone, he didn't spare the caller ID a glance and merely greeted cheerfully, "What."
"This had better be a fucking joke."
&.&.&.&
A/N: Yeah, I seriously don't even know - haha! The idea just came to me one night... And I was in the mood for something different.
Everything's pretty vague right now, but this is a prologue-ish thing of sorts so more will be explained soon!
And Aoi's going to have a surprise waiting for him on the other end of that phone :D
<3
Description: When Uruha said he'd like to experience the simpler, innocent feeling of childhood again in his now-hectic life, this wasn't what he had in mind.
Chapter: 1/?
Pairings: Reita/Uruha, Aoi/Ruki
Genre: Fluff, slight crack, romance, drama
Rating: PG-13
Notes: This idea was stuck in my head for some time. And then this first chapter was sitting in my documents for some time too while I was still posting Violet Pulse. Anyways, I needed a little fluff in my life (which is being devoured by college madness...) so here comes this piece! I'm also doing a slight side project for the spooky month of October so beware of weird, not-as-consistent updates. Hope you all enjoy <33
01
It wasn't like it was a particularly hard, gruesome, mind-numbing day. However, his bones still somehow ached by the end of it. Uruha let his fingers press into the cold sweat of his lager, blisters sighing in relief. The bustle of the bar the five of them had stumbled into (with the misinformation that it was a family restaurant, but they had collapsed into the booth anyway because didn't a beer sound so much fucking better than a burger right now?) swam like a fickle, lazy current in their ears. Slow wafts of idle chat, clinking glasses and distant laughter sliced periodically into their conversation about nothing in particular.
Uruha slid his fingers down the neck of the bottle and closed his eyes.
Reita's voice was somewhere to his left, amused and slightly impish, "So, you're telling me... that you can tell the exact qualities of a person just by looking at their shoes."
Uruha could almost touch the mirth in Reita's baritone, his oldest friend and roommate bumping into his shoulder slightly in silent jest. There was a huff of impatient breath and suddenly a loud thump on top of the table. Uruha didn't have to open his eyes to know that Ruki had just plopped his foot on the surface, the soft exclamation from Aoi dictating that his sake was at a close-range risk.
"It's all right here. Snake skin says I'm adventurous, creative, brash -- maybe a little precocious -- " Kai guffawed, "But the white says I'm an open canvas, waiting and offering to change, but afraid of risk just as much as I thrive off of it."
Reita, clearly past the point of intellectual discussion with the three and a half beers lining his side of the table, drawled, "And the way you wear a size bigger than you need says that you're compensating for something a little north of your feet...?"
Aoi giggled -- Uruha noted that it was indeed not a chuckle with the way the man's tenor voice broke off, and the way he was always a lightweight.
But Ruki seemed to let the comment roll off his pink-blazer clad shoulders as he slid his foot off the table, "Show me yours then."
"I'm not whipping it out."
"C'mon, just show me."
"I'm not comfortable with you ogling it like that."
"Fuck, Reita, just fucking show me your -- "
"Guys, are we still talking about the wonderful world of shoes?" Kai's exasperated question poked in somewhere from the far right.
Ruki must have been rolling his eyes, and pointedly ignored Aoi's excited exclamation of 'Mine, mine! What about mine?' "Fine. I'll just get Uruha to show me."
Uruha's eyes snapped open, realizing that he was being jerked back into this eccentric bundle of nonsense known as his friends and sorta-kinda-colleagues. "Huh?"
Ruki was looking at him with a wide smile and anticipating eyes, blue contacts shining eerily in the dim lighting of the bar, "Show me your shoes."
Uruha whipped his head to the left, silently asking Reita for confirmation on this inane request. The older man just shrugged, already nursing a half-empty fourth beer, "Just grant the little monster his wish."
With Aoi leaning in with interest, Kai regarding the scene with an arm slung back over his chair and Reita being no help whatsoever, Uruha crinkled his brow before gingerly lifting a foot to place on the edge of the table.
Ruki immediately dove in, almost knocking over Aoi's drink again which said man, panic-stricken, swiped just in time before a catastrophe met the vocalist's bejeweled blazer. His eyes honed in on Uruha's shoes with uncanny attention and the guitarist self-consciously curled his toes inside the worn Chuck Taylors.
A minute of absolute silence, save Reita's thirsty gulps, passed over the group before Ruki leaned back in his seat, satisfied, and crossed his arms.
"Just as I suspected."
Uruha quickly pulled his foot off the table, catching the bartender's disapproving glare sheepishly, "What?"
Ruki nodded his head sagely, "A true 'my-pace' guy, what else?" For a split second, the sloshed Ruki appeared sober, "The grass stains say you're carefree, walking through grass unlike a normal person who would use the sidewalk. And those frayed shoelaces say you're a guy who keeps the past close to him -- "
"What the fuck does that have to do with his laces?"
Ruki glared at Reita's lackadaisical pondering, "Why else would he keep such ratty shoes?"
Uruha thought he should probably feel offended, but he stared unto his beer instead, listening.
Ruki continued, "You obviously desire some sort of your past. At least more simplicity or whatever. Your shoes themselves are simple, practical, something you'd wear on the playground more than you'd wear to work."
The taller man felt Reita brush against his shoulder again, something passing between them that only a fifteen-year history could allow. He heard Aoi hum thoughtfully while Kai voiced the actual thought, "That actually... sounds about right."
Ruki's sagely countenance clattered to the ground as he grinned haughtily, launching from his chair yet again to point a black-nailed finger to Reita's apathetic figure as he slurred, "Your face? IN IT!"
Uruha barely heard the scoff from the blond-haired man beside him, too busy turning Ruki's words over and glancing furtively at his shoes. He watched as the pathetic looking things toed the ground almost guiltily. Days did seem to be getting harder, in the way that constant work always did begin to drain passion and wear away at the mind. However, with the recent backlash from disgruntled fans bearing down upon them before their now-infamous single was even released, a considerable amount of gloom had taken root in the studio.
He supposed sometime between working and rehashing the B Melodies and collapsing into the dilapidated cushions of his and Reita's couch, he had been unconsciously longing for the past -- where the world seemed so vast, ripe and carefree.
Now, meetings of management clogged whatever free spirit had been roaming in his soul. The near-constant whir of laptops echoed in his eardrum from each one of them checking and rechecking blogs -- trying desperately to find a positive reaction to what they were doing, to gauge what had gone wrong.
Uruha picked at a loose thread on his sleeve cuff, the sounds of Ruki's raucous laughter and Aoi's mock-affronted tone warbled as he continued to think. Looking up slightly and past the fringe of his bangs, watching his bandmates becoming dorks of the highest degree, Uruha felt a stab in his stomach when he realized that it was the first time they were all together, laughing, in over a month.
Uruha wrinkled his brow. That was just --
"Hey, you feel sick? You look pale."
Reita's low voice snapped Uruha out of his thoughts. Turning his head towards the older man, he blinked owlishly. The bassist only smirked slightly before reaching out a hand to ruffle his friend's auburn hair, "Let's step outside then, okay? I don't think I want to witness Ruki's strip-tease anyways."
Uruha whipped back around to see that indeed the aureate-haired vocalist was beginning to shed his blazer in what he thought to be a provocative manner. He only succeeded in elbowing Aoi in the face.
Before he could watch Aoi's temper ignite and Kai's mother-hen wings sprout, Reita was dragging him across the bar to the door.
Once outside, the other man stepped away from Uruha, digging in his pockets for a cigarette. Uruha found himself almost stumbling backwards as he went to lean against the brick wall. He tilted his head up and breathed in heavily, the crisp night air painting across his lungs. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the now blatant feel of his worn shoes against his feet.
He could hear Reita mumble darkly about losing his lighter, the frantic pats of his hands on his jeans and jacket slowing down once he realized it was truly a lost cause. A sigh broke the still air and Uruha couldn't stop the words from falling out of his mouth, "Ruki was right."
"Don't let him know that."
Uruha opened his eyes and stared into Reita's chocolate orbs, "I'm sick of it, Akira."
Reita paused, sensing that this wasn't going to be a lighthearted discussion with jabs at a certain short-statured vocalist's expense. He still had the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, "What are you saying?"
Uruha could detect the traces of horror in Reita's soft question and knew what the other was thinking, "Not like that. Just... Have you ever wanted to just stop for a second?"
Reita regarded him blankly. Uruha cursed those three-and-then-some beers.
He tried again, "I love what we do. I live for it. But lately, with everything going on with the single and whatever, it's hard. I just want things to be simple again."
Reita stepped closer, hands now in his pockets and a sober glaze to his eyes, "Like when we were kids?"
Uruha nodded, suddenly feeling smaller than usual as he toed the ground, "Weird and slightly creepy to think of ourselves as kids seven years ago. But yeah. Like that. And even before that, I didn't have to worry as much and even though I used to get beat up and stuff, I had you and that's all I needed to feel better."
He let out a breath of laughter, "But now you can't save me from meetings or wonky amps or late nights at the studio second-guessing myself." Uruha paused before whispering, "You can't save me from other people's high expectations and when I don't meet them..."
Reita took another step, "Why didn't you say you were stressed? You know we can always take a break from the studio for a day or two..."
Uruha lolled his head to the side, not sure of what he was saying, but knowing he could hear his heart pulsating in his ears, "It's not that. I just... I just want to not care whether or not I'll mess up, blow our 'image', get everything thrown back in my face."
He looked up at the sky, bright stars catching his eyes, "It'd be nice to have that innocence of childhood again."
Reita watched Uruha watch the stars. Slowly, the taller man closed his eyes and began to sag against the wall. Reita immediately went to his side, hefting up the rag-doll body and sighing. Shit. I should've been making sure he wasn't getting too wasted tonight. Stupid half-off Tuesdays...
Slinging the younger man's limp arm around his shoulders, Reita silently led them back home.
Up in the sky, the stars winked.
&&
The strip-tease didn't go as well as he'd hoped. Rather than applause, he ended up with stained pants, 45000 yen in damage fees and a twisted ankle. Ruki pouted in the backseat of the cab he was sharing with Aoi, who had sobered up mighty quick when the shot glass Ruki had been using as a microphone slipped from his hand and towards his face.
Ruki was currently face-planted into his shoulder. The golden locks almost looked like a fallen sun against Aoi's black shirt. The liquor in his stomach, and perhaps the merciless thoughts that had been plaguing him for months, was making him think that maybe, if he tried really hard, he could be his sky. Aoi shook his head quickly, dismissing the rind of cheese he had just spewed from his short-circuited brain with a scoff. Besides, it was foolish to think that Ruki -- flamboyant, brash, avant-garde, sensitive, intellectual, semi-broken -- would let someone like Aoi -- bohemian, foolhardy, arrogant, serious, temperamental -- cradle his head against their chest.
Aoi pressed his forehead against the cabbie window. Tokyo lights were blurring outside and Ruki's soft giggles and slurred verbs were making bruises against his heart. He wasn't sure when this petulant yearning started. Maybe it spawned somewhere between an always-there affection and the accidental brush of the vocalist's hand against his thigh as he reached over to experimentally wiggle his guitar's whammy some months ago. Or maybe from the playful glances upon the stage, or from somewhere deep inside his internal struggle with his own sexuality. While he felt insecure, unsure, and hid from his bandmate's concerned pondering, there was Ruki -- unafraid to don gilded slacks for a radio interview.
The shorter man's breaths were close to his ear suddenly, softly blowing air against his lobe, causing Aoi to twitch violently.
"Ruki!"
Ruki cracked up, holding his stomach and tilting his head back, gleeful tears starting to slip down his cheeks -- apparently 'over' the fact that his salmon designer blazer was effectively ruined by Kai's red wine. Aoi scowled, but watched Ruki's smile. So uninhibited. It was rare to spot these days, what with the mounting work, rising expectations from fans, and slander upon slander in online blogs defacing what they do.
Aoi knew Ruki had always taken it the hardest.
"You -- Your face!"
Ruki continued to laugh and Aoi continued to marvel at his grin and glee-splattered eyes.
The taxi finally pulled up to Ruki's apartment. Aoi would have let the vocalist get out and trek up to his home by himself, if not for the way Ruki practically fell against the car door and took two minutes to get the handle open.
"Let me walk you up. I'll catch another cab."
"I will have you know that... I can handle myself perfectively. You... fucking ragamuffin."
Aoi rolled his eyes and pushed Ruki out of the cab.
They walked as best they could to the door. The night air was crisp and Aoi thought he could see his breath mingle with Ruki's as the other man stumbled into him on his threshold. The keys were jangling in his grip, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration as he tried to grasp the right one, "What are all these keys for?"
"To get in places?"
"Fuck that. Kick the door down."
"Yeah, I'll get right on that."
A squeal of victory left Ruki's mouth as he found his apartment key and proceeded to shakily direct it into the keyhole. Maybe it was the vodka he had chugged an hour before, maybe it was the melting of his mind and the burning secret he had stowed away deep inside of him surfacing, but in that moment of standing under Ruki's porch light, watching how the yellow glow hit his cheekbones with the moon hidden by surly clouds -- Aoi swore this perfect, degenerate mess beside him was beautiful.
Ruki was halfway in the door when Aoi couldn't help himself, "I think I... Let me kiss you."
There was a moment of definitive stillness. Ruki's eyes lost their glaze, a serious expression replacing the giddy pinkness of his cheeks. Somewhere, Aoi could hear the keys keep jingling, Ruki's hand probably shaking. He licked his dry lips and swallowed hard.
Ruki smiled then, the bitter quirk of his lips making his face wonderfully cynical, "Should have asked me when I was younger, Aoi-chan. I might have said yes."
The door shut.
Aoi let out the breath in his lungs and brought a hand to his mouth.
Fuck.
Up in the sky, the stars blinked.
&&&
It wasn't the feeling of being completely and utterly hungover that startled him awake in a cold sweat. It wasn't the cotton in his mouth or the remnants of a grotesque nightmare clinging to his conscious or the urgent need to puke. Although that would probably come later. What shot Reita out of bed, tangled his ankles in his sheets and catapulted him over the edge was a bloodcurdling scream.
Utterly frazzled, navy sheets constricting his torso as he tried to clamor back up, the bassist caught the glare of his alarm clock. 7:26 am.
He didn't have time to ponder as to why it was so fucking early, he was too busy having his head ring and thoughts race along the question of whether he had locked the door last night, whether he still remembered those kendo moves, whether an intruder was really that fucking insane for barging in at broad daylight. His senses were becoming overloaded with adrenaline; the scream was reaching into his bones and clearing the fog in his brain. Adorned in only a wife-beater and boxers, Reita finally managed to scramble out of his bed-entrapment and careen down the narrow hallway.
His head was swimming slightly, disorientation piercing his eyes. Nothing was making sense. Why was there screaming? Why did it sound foreign, yet completely familiar? He blinked. What? Why was it coming from Uruha's...?
Reita didn't pause, didn't stop to think of the implications as he practically threw Uruha's bedroom door off its hinges.
And then everything came into bright focus.
The world slightly stuttered. Reita froze in the doorway as the screams cut off and he was pinned by large, frightened eyes.
Because this... This was so utterly impossible.
The bedraggled child occupying Uruha's bed hiccuped, tears streaming down his face, as Reita stood there gaping. His small frame was drowned in sheets, long black hair sticking to his cheeks against those clear rivulets, lips parted in muted horror.
What. The fuck.
Reita's mind must've still been drunk. What the hell was this kid doing in Uruha's bed and where the hell was the mellow-minded guitarist? His eyes hurriedly scanned the quaint room as he tried to remember last night. Uruha passing out at the bar, carrying his sorry-ass up four flights of stairs to their apartment, depositing him into his bed. That was it. No picking up stray orphans on the side of the road...
A small whimper pulled his attention away from the blurry details to once again hone in on the child. He looked at him, really looked at him, and the tug of familiarity almost brought him to his knees.
The bowed lips. The innocent, doe eyes. The faint freckle on his lower jaw.
Reita slowly stepped forward, tentative and knowing he was insane for even asking, "Uruha?"
The child immediately scooted back into the headboard, leaning away as far as he could from the man's presence. His arms were rigid as he held onto the bedspread with all his might. Caramel eyes widened in blind fear as Reita took another step. He tried to fuse his body into the headboard behind him, bit his lip and cried out:
"W-Where am I?!"
Reita froze in mid-step, the voice of years past melting through his memories. He knew for sure then.
Oh, fuck. I must look like a fucking kidnapper.
Quickly realizing the dire and extremely suspicious situation at hand, Reita lifted his hands in peace, "It's okay. Don't be scared, okay?"
The boy only had more tears sliding down his distraught face. When he saw that Reita wasn't backing up, leaving or turning into his mother, he screwed his eyes shut and whispered, "You're scary."
The blond-haired bassist slid a hand down his face in exasperation, his fingers briefly touching the noseband he was too lazy to pull off last night. Oh. Seeing a nose-less captor might be a little traumatic...
Reita slowly, slowly stepped closer and bent his back in an effort to minimize his towering figure, "No I'm not. I promise you're okay, Uruha."
The young boy opened his eyes and trembled, "I'm not Uruha! I don't know who that is, just take me home! I want 'kira!"
Reita could almost hear his heart tear and found himself kneeling next to the quivering child, watching his fingers shake and breaths catch in his throat. He lowered his voice, whispered gently, "Kouyou, I am Akira."
Kouyou shook his head vigorously, backing away from the edge of the bed, "No, no, no! You're not 'kira! You're not my 'kira -- you're a big, scary man!"
Reita almost reached out to touch Kouyou's shoulder, the tears in the boy's throat reminding him of all those years the other was bullied and how he had muffled his sobs against his shoulder. It hurt. Despite the total 'what the fu--' of the situation, despite it making zero sense whatsoever -- Reita felt compelled to prove the boy wrong.
He sat his chin on the edge of the bed, fingers grasping at the sheets, "I am him, Kouyou. I'm just bigger, that's all. Don't you remember when we played soccer at that old field by the railroad tracks? And when we would get ice cream afterwards and I'd always have to share 'cause somebody forgot their money?"
A smile crept into his voice. Kouyou, who had curled into himself and faced away to the wall, tilted his head towards the man behind him. Reita leaned forward a bit, ignoring the total insanity he was wading through, and softly spoke, "I helped you with math and you helped me with kanji. Even though you were wrong most of the time anyway... And when we'd stay out too late, I'd walk you home and explain to your mom it was my fault," He chuckled despite himself, "Even though you were the one who whined that we had to stay out later or we'd miss shooting stars."
Kouyou met his eyes in awed silence even though his body was still angled away from the older man. Reita lost his smile, regarding the salt-marks staining the boy's innocent face, "And I tried to keep you safe from those stupid guys who made fun of you. But when I couldn't, and when it was really bad, I'd let you lean against my shoulder... And I'd tell you that you were safe with me, that you weren't alone."
A silence enveloped the two. A headache was beginning to pound behind his eyes, last night's festivities catching up with him. But he kept his gaze steady with those caramel irises. This was his friend. His best friend.
He whispered, "You're still safe with me."
Kouyou wrinkled his brow, the same puzzled expression that his older self would often make when faced with a complex guitar phrase or a particularly difficult game level. Reita almost shook his head at the haunting similarity.
It was still for a moment before Kouyou whispered back in obvious disbelief, "Akira?"
Reita gave the boy a lopsided smile, the same that used to grace his boyish face all those years ago.
Tears welled up in Kouyou's ducts (he had always been a weepy child), unable to help himself as he suddenly threw himself at his friend. He grasped at the broad shoulders and pressed his face into the hard chest. It was weird and different and totally impossible. But Kouyou knew. He knew and he raised his head and furrowed his eyebrows at his friend, pouting slightly, "You're old."
Reita smirked, "You're short."
&&
The sweet heaven of Ayumi Hamasaki's "Glitter" woke up Aoi that morning. Bleary eyes glaring at the phone on his nightstand, he contemplated whether to just 'accidentally' turn it off and blame his network for the missed call. He didn't want to wake up. Waking up meant having to remember what he said to Ruki. Waking up meant that he'd have to actually talk to Ruki again.
He lay absolutely still, wondering if his phone would get the hint. No such luck as Ayumi kept on busting a lung -- fuck, he must have been hammered not to notice Reita messing with his phone -- and Aoi groaned as he gave in.
Hand slapping atop the phone, he didn't spare the caller ID a glance and merely greeted cheerfully, "What."
"This had better be a fucking joke."
&.&.&.&
A/N: Yeah, I seriously don't even know - haha! The idea just came to me one night... And I was in the mood for something different.
Everything's pretty vague right now, but this is a prologue-ish thing of sorts so more will be explained soon!
And Aoi's going to have a surprise waiting for him on the other end of that phone :D
<3
