'Violet Pulse' - [Aoi/Uruha] 4/5

[colberry]

Title:  Violet Pulse
Chapter:  4/5
Description:  Eight-years-old, Yuu blushed -- an innocent red dusting his cheeks as he ducked his head away from Kouyou's sight.  He swallowed, his lungs stammering because he had these weird, wiggly things inside of him that made his stomach clench.  And made his heart beat fast.  And made Kouyou feel right.  Somehow.
Pairing:  Aoi/Uruha
Notes:  Five chapters.  Five ages.  How sometimes two people should be together despite everything.  First request-fic!  Please enjoy jokerock <3

In this chapter:  Tawny hair now splayed across each cerulean stitch of the comforter, Uruha watched Aoi pause -- as if to regard how the lead guitarist always did fit so well into the sky.  Almost a sun.

 

Age 23

There was a soft hand upon his jaw, the tired calluses of long-nights-passed tracing his hot skin.  It was like there was no time, and Uruha was compelled to take a quick downward peek at the fingers that began to hold his face as if something had just leapt from the precarious cusp they had created.

He swallowed lightly and imagined how Aoi’s countenance had become almost like silk, warm eyes drinking him greedily – and Uruha knew that his pale hair was mussed from the shower he took two hours ago, that he had no makeup (nowhere to hide) swept on his eyes.  But Aoi didn’t seem to notice, even when he was still dabbled with eyeshadow and other false promises, as the rough fingertips almost melted with each stroke.  It was a slow progression, one that had Uruha shutting his eyes tight and Aoi touching his forehead against the other’s. 

“Watch me.”  Each word kissed his eyelids, the tepid breath of the elder tickling his nose.  Uruha let a soft breath sigh from his plush lips, and nudged his head forward until those blackbird strands touched his cheek.

He almost reached out to clutch those hands tight, hold onto this because Aoi was fifty different men crammed into one face.  He was the artist, the lover, the dork, the sex god, the home-wrecker, the brother, the workaholic, the dreamer.  And with those souls shifting endlessly within those enigmatic irises, Uruha kissed each one shut.

A forefinger and thumb pinched his chin and slowly lifted his idle face until his eyes finally flickered towards Aoi’s soft smirk, “Watch me, Uruha.”

And Uruha felt a little spiteful tonight, a night of gray-sky canvases and fading moons, so he playfully scoffed before swiveling his gaze towards his bedroom door.

Aoi had never taken too kindly to outright snubbing.

So he was propelled  through the stale air of a musky apartment towards the very bedroom door used in his foul attempt at gaining an upper-hand.  The elder man’s grip upon his arm was almost harmonious with the light touch to the small of his back – pushing with no force, but all his might.  The cream walls bleared and the world tilted as he was unceremoniously dropped onto the navy comforter that was ridden with gossamer apologies.  Tawny hair now splayed across each cerulean stitch, Uruha watched Aoi pause – as if to regard how the lead guitarist always did fit so well into the sky.

Almost a sun.

Almost too distant to touch; made his eyes water and skin warm.

The raven-haired rhythm guitarist suddenly stepped out of Uruha’s makeshift aerial view.  Curious, the doe-eyed man sat up to find Aoi standing a couple feet across from him as if waiting.  The air felt like glitter across his skin, blistering each inkling of defiance inside his ribs.  Raising an eyebrow, Uruha smiled softly at the endearing scene of his band mate fidgeting with his hands, bringing those sinewy fingers up to his chest as he stared directly into the other’s eyes.  Uruha could feel a pulse beneath his lip and this preamble – and he leaned in with insatiable interest.

“Watch,” Aoi whispered then, full lips barely moving but his eyes shining with each soul that burned through him, “Watch me dance, Uruha.” 

Uruha swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, the chapped skin burning and the soft command fists his heart tight.  He couldn’t help but murmur with a quirk of a grin, despite how Aoi was edging closer with celestial steps –

“Why should I?”

It was his first words of the evening and Aoi only ran a hand through his silken locks, black night swallowing those alabaster knuckles deep, as a hip cocked to one side.  There was a faint smile lingering upon his lips and Uruha could see those eyelids flutter shut – and he knew he’s asked for it, begged for it with that flimsy sentence where each vowel of want had dropped into Aoi’s awaiting palms.

Aoi’s hand slowly slid from its noir entrapment, releasing a few strands to caress his cheek before he let it trail down to his taut abdomen.  His eyes opened languidly, nails still caressing flushed skin, “That’s my line, Uru-chan.”

And then he danced.

Those sensuous hips loll in broken figure-eights, hands now tracing up his sides to brush his shirt aside and Uruha felt his mouth part slowly.  Head falling to the left, as if such ministrations were draining, Aoi hid his face in a curtain of black before he arched his back in an impossible bridge that left his throat exposed. 

The world seemed to shudder, night flickering to reveal the sun for the briefest of moments before Aoi snapped back to lean forward with predator eyes. 

Each step towards Uruha’s being was filled with delicious tempo and melody, the sway of each breath capturing the guitarist in rolls of
tempests that blazed and burned.  What made Aoi that mysterious deity upon the stage slid its way toward him, and Uruha did the only thing he could do as Aoi finally grasped his knees in a grip that compelled him to gasp.

He watched.

Aoi slinked his way to Uruha’s lap, forced the taller man to lean back slightly as his nose pressed against his own. 

Aoi then pressed his lips to the edge of Uruha’s jaw, “This is the part where we fall.”

Uruha whispered, “As long as you catch me.”

&&

His heart was full.  He felt top-heavy and inside the overflow of his aorta, Aoi still felt anxiety lap at his skin.  Because he had messed up before, he had left before, he broke a heart before –

“You’re thinking again.”

Uruha smirked at him from beneath the elder’s arm.  He placed a finger on his nose, the blond-haired man’s mouth lifting into a full grin.  They were lying on a motel bed, the sounds of Kai and Reita practicing beats next door for the concert tomorrow creating a pulse in their chests.  Their legs were tangled together, Uruha having grabbed his waist and pulling him into bed – “It’s only 5 o’clock”  “I never really cared for time.” – sinking into the ratty covers that accidentally marred the younger’s makeup. 

Aoi smiled back, reaching out and smearing the corner of Uruha’s remaining blue eye shadow with a fingertip, “One of us has to.”

Uruha wrinkled his nose to that, sliding his finger from Aoi’s nose to his jaw.  Uruha was always touch-touch – always had to be flush against Aoi like he couldn’t trust his own spine to carry him.  And Aoi always leaned in closer because he was so cold. 

He shivered and bit his lip as the guitarist slid his gentle finger along the vein in his neck.  Counting each heartbeat – making sure he was still here.

Cigarette smoke was a haze above their heads and the needle-scars were still visible on the inside of Uruha’s arms.

They weren’t perfect.

They fought hard – Aoi screamed and threw anything he could grasp at the walls, Uruha grit his teeth and whispered black words that twisted in their chests.  They were messy – both pushing, pushing until neither felt the hurt in their lungs.  And they would touch afterwards. 

Just close their eyes and touch each freckle and pore and bone.

&&

“I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Aoi looks up from his guitar to lift an eyebrow at Reita.  The narrow-shouldered, bleach-haired man is staring at him.  He rolls the cigarette in his fingers back and forth.  Ashes are falling on his shoes and Aoi fights back the urge to point it out.  Reita’s eyes are a dark brown, almost like Aoi’s ebony – guarded and unsure.

Aoi sets the guitar down in his lap and angles his body towards the suddenly-laconic bassist, “Well, I was playing guitar.  See, if I press down here, it’s called a note – ”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Well, then don’t say weird things.”

“I’m serious.”

Aoi raised his other eyebrow, exasperated, “About what?”

Reita flicked the ashes from his cigarette, a frown marring his usually jovial countenance, “Uruha.  I don’t know what you’re doing, but don’t fucking mess up.”

Aoi scoffed, though his heart faltered, “And who are you to tell me anything?”

Reita’s eyes flashed with spitfire, glare pinning them both in suspension, “His best friend.”

A slow silence ebbed through the room.  Ruki was somewhere outside mostly likely scribbling lyrics in a frenzy from a sprout of inspiration, Kai was in the rented practice room to their right fleshing out his technique and Uruha was on a coffee run.  No one was stepping inside the break room for a good while, and Reita knew it.

The younger man flickered his gaze to his cigarette, “He’s strong, but he’s held up by loose threads.”

Aoi watched Reita’s eyes cloud over, “When we were kids, he was always picked on.  He was beat up all the time.”

Aoi blurted, “Where were you?” 

He hadn’t meant it maliciously, but Reita winced all the same.

“He wasn’t alone.  He had somebody.”

The bassist moved towards a spare chair and plopped down into it, snuffing out his cigarette in an ashtray, “Not for long, but he did then.”

Aoi couldn’t stop himself from asking quietly, “But where were you?”

A small pocket of silence lulled between them before Reita clenched his fist, “I was a coward.  And that fucker still left even knowing that.  He showed up on my porch that day – confused, broken, and so fucking defeated.  I tried.  I tried everything.  But he started shooting up, started not caring.”

Something in Aoi’s gut twisted.

“I don’t want to see Uruha ever look like that again.”

He looked Aoi in the eye then, knuckles white and lip thin, “Don’t let him fall apart.”

Aoi looked away, eyes tracing the cracked floor tiles, “What can I do?”

“Whatever makes him smile like that.”

Reita then stretched in his chair with his hands high above his head, his point made.  He let a lackadaisical smile stretch across his youthful face, watched Aoi run his fingers on the top of his strings in thought.  Reita grinned wider and put a hand to his chin, “It’s funny.”

Aoi glanced up at him.  Reita let out a breath of laughter, “You almost remind me of someone.”

The elder man tucked a stray lock of his bangs behind his ear, feeling his sharp calluses rub against skin, “Who?”

Reita took out another cigarette and just smiled.

&&

“Are you afraid you’re going to hurt me?”

Aoi panted, poised between Uruha’s thighs while clutching at his knees.  He was shaking, fingers sinking deep into the younger’s flesh, and Uruha just smiled – face flushed and lips wet.  Pre-cum was staining the sheets and his cock twitched with the slight roll of the blond-haired man’s hips.

“C’mon, Aoi-kun.”

Aoi lowered his head, shutting his eyes tight.  Dark, black hair was sticking to his face.  His chest heaved and he felt so hot and rushed and dangerous.  Too dangerous and too loose in control.  Aoi grit his teeth and almost screamed ‘I can’t hurt you again-again-again’ when a hand ruffled his hair.

He snapped his head up and it was Uruha spread before him.  Just Uruha.  Hooded eyes and beautiful leer. 

No cleats, grass-stained knees or juice-boxes.

Just them.

Uruha ran his hand down Aoi’s face, thumb touching his lip.  His caramel irises were almost sad, “You don’t have to care so much.”

He wrapped his long legs around Aoi’s waist, leaning up to whisper in the still man’s ear, “Won’t you obliterate me?”

Aoi narrowed his eyes and pushed the slurring guitarist back into the sheets, hand gripping his jaw, “Don’t ever fucking say that.”

A flicker of memory passed through Uruha’s glazed eyes.

Aoi slipped his cock inside Uruha’s tight heat and sunk in, inch by inch.  He paused, breathing heavily, and looked Uruha right in the eye.

“I will make you whole.”

He pulled back and snapped his hips forward.  Uruha whipped his head back, beautiful neck exposed.

“Even if I have to wrap you in my arms every single day…”

He thrust in as Uruha cried and held onto his shoulders with all the force of a man with his last shard of hope.

“Even if I have to break apart and give you each piece of me…”

Uruha gasped for air, seized him tight and Aoi kissed the corner of his open mouth.

“Fuck, Uruha, I’m going to make you shine.”

&&

When he got Reita’s text message, the heater had broken.  Uruha was hunched over by the bedside, gossamer sheet covering his legs and his fingers clutching the keypad tight.  Frost was taking over his window – a beautiful collage of snowflake sighs and wind shear tears.  It was one line without pretense.

It’s over – I’m at the park.

Uruha sighed and closed his eyes.  He knew Reita’s relationship with the girl from their first gig was slightly tumultuous.  Constant demands to stay home and hold her hand.  Late-night knocks on his door when Reita was kicked out.  Jealous eyes and untrustworthy stories of where she was last night.  Uruha shifted his socked feet on the iced-over floorboards.

He thought of Aoi and their plans for that afternoon – finally a spare few hours where they could be alone without the others.  Groaning slightly, he felt his thumbs immediately send back a message.

I’ll find you.

Grabbing a brown scarf, throwing on a pair of old Chucks, and a quick text to Aoi explaining the situation, Uruha slammed his apartment door shut. 

Reita’s fingers felt frost-bitten when Uruha’s hands brushed against them when placing the hot cup of ramen in his hands.  His breath was warm against Reita’s reddened nose as he leaned in to make sure the contents wouldn’t spill.  The bassist caught himself from shifting up to press his cheek against his best friend’s warmth.

Uruha plopped down  beside the distraught man on the bench and tilted his head back to watch snow flurries sway in the wind, “There will be a day when we can fix heaters…”

Reita snorted, grip tightening against the hot styrofoam, “I think my fingers are too cold to melt anyways.”

Uruha let a thoughtful silence fall between them.  He bumped his shoulder against Reita’s, pressing against him to offer anything he could.

“What happened?” He whispered.

Reita sighed, breath fogging in front of him, “Basically two years down the drain.  Should’ve done it sooner.  I think I was too desperate for any kind of closeness.”

The younger man tilted his head towards his friend, “Do you feel alone?”

Reita’s voice was small, eyes averted, “Sometimes.”

A small gush of wind ruffled the elder’s bangs.  Uruha opened his mouth to speak, but the other lowered his head.  “I have no right to talk about loneliness to you, Uru.”

Uruha only leaned in further, “Don’t – ”

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I left you back then.”

Reita slowly pushed against Uruha’s shoulder, scarf getting caught on the seam of his jacket, “I was young and scared and when you told me those things, it made me want to run.  And then you found him and you were so happy.  I thought…”

He lifted his head and Kouyou winced at the red in his eyes, “I thought you didn’t need me anymore.”

“Reita, I – ”

Reita turned away, “I know.  I’m sorry, Kou.”

He kicked a pebble and the guitarist followed its fated path.  His hand found its way to Reita’s knee, lithe fingers squeezing tight.  He tried to find Reita’s eyes, “Akira.”

Akira shifted his head to face the younger once again.  Silent tears were whisking past his cheeks, chocolate eyes wet and forlorn – desperately lost like they were boys again with nobody’s hand to hold.

Kouyou leaned in closer, used his other hand to place fingertips against his tears, “I will always need you.”

And then Akira was smothering his mouth, crashing their lips together and shutting his eyes tight.  Kouyou gasped and reached out to grip Akira’s shoulder.  It was wrong – Akira’s lips thin and chapped against his own, so different from Aoi’s whose were so familiar and right and imperfect.  It was only for a brief second – a slice of an instant.  Akira pulled back, pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth and hovered against it. 

His breaths were shaky, eyes still closed against the world.  Kouyou didn’t pull back, didn’t do much of anything but sit still and let Akira press his nose against his cheek.  Let him put a hand to his chest and fist a handful of his scarf.  Let his head slide down to his collarbone.

He breathed, “Akira…”

“I know.  I know, but just… let me stay here for a second.”  His voice was breaking, agony licking his chest.

And Kouyou gathered his oldest friend in his arms, cradled him, buried his nose in his bleached hair and inhaled his scent of pine and the past.
 

&&

“Who hurt you?”

Uruha stayed silent.  Aoi splayed his hand against his back, “I’ll never – ”

“ – You can’t promise that.”

His voice was raw and pained.  Aoi felt his chest ache and every part of him start to collapse.  Because he couldn’t.  He always broke promises and ran away and left hearts bleeding on the grass of soccer fields.  He always left those honey irises to become wet and cry and scream and wonder why.  He always broke things apart.

He pressed his forehead into the back of Uruha’s neck.

“I promise.”

&&

Aoi tangled his fingers into Uruha’s blond tresses, touching each strand of starlight.  They both lay in the afterglow of golden-shadows and glitter-splattered breaths.  He tugged and Uruha leaned in.

“I think I might..”

“Don’t say that word, okay?”

Aoi pressed his nose into Uruha’s temple, “Are you afraid?”

Uruha ran a finger along the dip in Aoi’s hip, lips pursed and pulse slowing, “It’s just that ‘love’ is evil.”

“How?”

“Have you ever spelt it backwards?”

Aoi chuckled softly, watched their shadows melt together on the wall.  “Okay.  None of that, then.”

Uruha smiled wryly, feeling Aoi’s other hand come to trace the scars of burnt-out innocence and emaciated hope.  Fingertips soft, breath stuttering against his ear.

Then, “But ‘love’ means that someone means everything, right?”

Uruha lolled his head to smile lazily against Aoi’s neck, “Sure.”

“I everything you.”

Uruha closed his eyes, felt Aoi dip his fingers into the tangles of his hair, and whispered, “I can’t be your everything, Aoi.”

And Aoi whispered right back.

“Too late.”

&&

Somehow, they just might make it. 

Lounging in another motel bed, stage lights were still reflected within their eyes.  The sweat of performance was still caked on their skin and the kohl smeared onto Uruha’s eyes was smudging.  But Aoi’s eyeshadow was doomed from the start, so it’s okay.

“They sang along this time.”

Aoi quirked his lips, nodding and watched the smoke of his cigarette dance above their heads.  Uruha put his knee across Aoi’s and craned his neck down to catch the elder’s lips. 

They’re dry and chapped and perfect.

He smiles, and Aoi can almost see the sun, “Do you think comets believe car headlights are their long lost brothers?”

He hovers his lips against Aoi’s, lip ring scratching at his mouth.

Aoi breathes, tries not to sink too deep into this, but edges his body closer.  He thinks of the lights on stage, the bass in his heart and the sight of Uruha shining.  He always thought of starlight, black starlight that smothered his soul.  But fuck…  why had he never realized…

Uruha sighed softly, smile easy and eyes warming, “Because everybody needs a soul mate, right?”

Aoi grabbed the back of his neck and buried his face into his shoulder.

&&&

A/N:  I feel like this is a transitional chapter more than anything.  I tried to drop a few hints about Aoi/Yuu suspecting Uruha’s real identity – along with Reita’s clever deduction.  Also, you get a brief glance into Reita’s absence.  And about him kissing Uruha – desperation, loneliness and a close friend nearby are oftentimes catalysts for awkward disasters.

I originally had a big angst-ball scene in here, but I figured it should be cut out since I didn’t want this chapter to turn too dark.  If anyone’s interested in it despite that, let me know and I might post it to my journal as a ‘cut-scene’ entry.  Let’s just say…  Aoi gets really jealous. 

Strange to think there’s only one chapter left… 

Hope you guys enjoyed!


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