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colberryTitle: Arms Stretched Like Kites
Description: In which Uruha tries to find the clouds and Aoi is sober.
Genre: Introspective, drama
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha
Warning: Implied drug use, written in all-lowercase
Notes: Another piece that had been stewing in my documents since Christmas. It may have been a gift-fic at one point, but I honestly can't remember. Anyhoo, I always have Aoi pining in my writing. Well, now it's time to turn the tables.
he's sure the clouds are fluttering away. piece after piece of the sky is disappearing into the blue of aoi's irises -- even though they're really a rotting sepia -- but uruha is already closing his own eyes against the world. his head is lolling, thick locks of poorly bleached hair sticking to his forehead and splaying messily across the pillowcase. he feels numb, a little bit like drowning -- a little bit like being sliced open and losing his lungs. the tablet on his tongue is melting, oozing, purring. but he can also feel aoi's frown against his palm as he blindly brings his hand to the other's mouth. just to touch. because touching feels so good right now. and he needs to feel aoi. just this once.
you're like nitrogen and white birds, aoi.
uruha's breath is rough and slow, eyelids now flickering open and seeing the ceiling tilt to greet him. he has to be in a black hole (sucked in and about to be stretched out and fed to oblivion), but it's only aoi. only aoi's raven hair that's like a curtain of midnight on his cheek as the elder leans down, slides uruha's hand away from his scowling lips.
i'm none of those things.
the tablet is slipping past his tongue, towards his gums, so when uruha smiles aoi can see the tiny blue pill between the taller man's lips. uruha shakes his head, smile fading when he realizes aoi won't be grinning back -- won't be digging his palms into his hips and loving him. he reaches up, places his fingertips just below aoi's eyes and sighs.
but you have wings --
and he does. beautiful feathers that uruha can almost taste. clipped wings that flutter and flap in endless circles. he ignores aoi shaking his head in the negative, skin shifting under his fingers.
i can't be those things for you, kouyou.
his forehead taps against the elder's as he lifts his head, fingertips lacing behind aoi's neck. burying in the gentle downy wisps that hide there. he can feel one of his fingers brush against a pulse.
just keep me here for a second.
night is collapsing,
blue pill under his tongue,
and aoi is perfectly still for five seconds.
.:.:.:.:.
A/N: ...the pill is a metaphor? 8D
And the reason for the lowercase is just because the night I wrote this, I was dead tired and didn't bother hitting "shift" at all. I rather like how it came out aesthetically, considering the content, so I didn't edit.
Hope you enjoyed! :)
Description: In which Uruha tries to find the clouds and Aoi is sober.
Genre: Introspective, drama
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha
Warning: Implied drug use, written in all-lowercase
Notes: Another piece that had been stewing in my documents since Christmas. It may have been a gift-fic at one point, but I honestly can't remember. Anyhoo, I always have Aoi pining in my writing. Well, now it's time to turn the tables.
he's sure the clouds are fluttering away. piece after piece of the sky is disappearing into the blue of aoi's irises -- even though they're really a rotting sepia -- but uruha is already closing his own eyes against the world. his head is lolling, thick locks of poorly bleached hair sticking to his forehead and splaying messily across the pillowcase. he feels numb, a little bit like drowning -- a little bit like being sliced open and losing his lungs. the tablet on his tongue is melting, oozing, purring. but he can also feel aoi's frown against his palm as he blindly brings his hand to the other's mouth. just to touch. because touching feels so good right now. and he needs to feel aoi. just this once.
you're like nitrogen and white birds, aoi.
uruha's breath is rough and slow, eyelids now flickering open and seeing the ceiling tilt to greet him. he has to be in a black hole (sucked in and about to be stretched out and fed to oblivion), but it's only aoi. only aoi's raven hair that's like a curtain of midnight on his cheek as the elder leans down, slides uruha's hand away from his scowling lips.
i'm none of those things.
the tablet is slipping past his tongue, towards his gums, so when uruha smiles aoi can see the tiny blue pill between the taller man's lips. uruha shakes his head, smile fading when he realizes aoi won't be grinning back -- won't be digging his palms into his hips and loving him. he reaches up, places his fingertips just below aoi's eyes and sighs.
but you have wings --
and he does. beautiful feathers that uruha can almost taste. clipped wings that flutter and flap in endless circles. he ignores aoi shaking his head in the negative, skin shifting under his fingers.
i can't be those things for you, kouyou.
his forehead taps against the elder's as he lifts his head, fingertips lacing behind aoi's neck. burying in the gentle downy wisps that hide there. he can feel one of his fingers brush against a pulse.
just keep me here for a second.
night is collapsing,
blue pill under his tongue,
and aoi is perfectly still for five seconds.
.:.:.:.:.
A/N: ...the pill is a metaphor? 8D
And the reason for the lowercase is just because the night I wrote this, I was dead tired and didn't bother hitting "shift" at all. I rather like how it came out aesthetically, considering the content, so I didn't edit.
Hope you enjoyed! :)