Stay The Night?
Being alone for periods of time often caused Hiroto's mind to work in strange fashions. And the less time he spent with his band, the more he tended to think about them. So it became inevitable, as he moved slowly about his house, that his thoughts drifted towards them almost constantly, and ideas coupled with curiosity pushed their way into the direct parts of his brain and its inner mechanisms.
It felt so natural to him, however, that he would think about his friends. They were his life, the remaining four-fifths of his soul, the completion of his genetic makeup. And after a time, he would start to feel upset, almost hurt, that they weren't by his side. But their vacation had started, and each member was occupied with dealings they couldn't tend to while recording or touring.
He knew he could call them on the phone at anytime and speak with them. He knew this, oh yes.
But that knowledge was the one thing that allowed the fear to creep in.
Because Hiroto, however optimistic and calm, had a hidden possessive streak, almost motherly in a sense, but bordered on alarming. His band mates were far more dear to him than even his own life, and this often led to a constant need to know of their locations, health, and thoughts. When Saga would take early morning runs, he would be the first to ask where he had gone; when Shou's voice sounded less than perfect, he would be the first to shove throat medicine in the vocalist's hands; when Nao would stop updating his blog, he would be the first to ask what was wrong. He was always the first person concerned at the sign of any irregularities, if not the only.
And his heart pounded at the thought of calling one of his friend and getting only empty rings and a voicemail as a response. What would he do? How could he help? Was he needed? The thought of not knowing was enough to drive him mad, and yet he was continually tormented at the fear that something was wrong and he was doing nothing about it.
He was quite a mess when Tora visited him the second week in.
---
If Tora noted something strange in Hiroto's behaviour, or how he looked so sleep-deprived and restless, he kept silent about it. If something was wrong, Hiroto would tell him. He always had.
Hiroto ran around the house, a constant chatter as he pulled out items for Tora and made him tea and suggested movies, clearly preventing any silence they may encounter. Tora still said nothing as he watched Hiroto, though he couldn't quite tell if the emotion he felt was adoration at Hiroto's cute way of entertaining him, or jerks of fright and concern towards Hiroto's strong yearn to keep Tora there.
Finally, Tora put in a film, and Hiroto settled down long enough to curl his small body into Tora's, winding his arms around Tora's waist and latching onto his shirt.
You weren't planning on leaving soon, right?
Hiroto voices it without thinking, and Tora turns, kissing the top of his head with a smile and a promise of I'll stay if you make me dinner, deal?
And Hiroto nods, grinning, because it's just what he needs. Tora is in his sight. Tora is tangible. Tora is here and he is beautiful and he's healthy and he is so close. Hiroto can watch over him, like Tora always had for him.
---
He makes Tora's favourite, and they eat it with no real ceremony, munching quietly and laughing like they're used to. Tora's eyes sparkle as he speaks, a light dancing in them that Hiroto is glad he was able to produce.
Tora, stay the night?
And maybe if Tora hadn't been so quick to agree, hadn't been so distracted by the laughter and grin that graced Hiroto's face, he might have seen a similar light behind his friend's eyes, covered in a thick veil of smoky haze and hidden by an almost mad desire.
---
I have to leave by noon tomorrow though, he says, climbing into bed beside Hiroto. I have places to be.
And for once, Hiroto isn't distracted by the feeling of Tora's skin pressed against his back, or the way Tora's breath hits his neck and sends shivers down his spine. For once, he isn't distracted as Tora's hands encircle his waist and pull him closer, until body heat is all that he can feel, and Tora is all that he can taste. For once, he isn't distracted as Tora runs practiced hands across his shoulders, his mouth, his hips, whispering things that would usually cause shivers of anticipation to course down Hiroto's spine.
No. Oh no.
His eyes still hold that misty glare as he hears those words, again and again, replay through his head.
I have to leave by noon. I have to leave by noon. I have to leave, places to be.
(I have to leave. Where will I be going? Will you know when I get there? These places I have to be, could you foresee their safety? I have to leave. I have to leave you.)
And for once, he isn't distracted as Tora sleeps deeply beside him.
No. Oh no.
He has work to do.
---
Have you been watching the news, Tora-shi?
His words pour out so easily, like a normal question. It is a normal question. But Tora is blinking blearily at him as if seeing Hiroto for the first time, and these words make no sense to him. He thinks of more pressing matters. Why is he on the floor? Why do his wrists ache?
Pon--?
I've been watching it, Hiroto continues. Bad things have been happening. I mean, I'm sure they happen all the time, but I guess I just never noticed it before.
Tora tries to move his arms. They are raised above his head and he can't figure out why.
Hiroto, what is this--?
People are being kidnapped, Tora. Murdered. Slaughtered. And then there's the car crashes, freak accidents, sickness--
Hiroto! What is this!
There's a panic in Tora's voice now, and the restraints clank fruitlessly as he pulls against them, his breath becoming quicker and shallower as he reads the look in Hiroto's eyes. The mindless look. The look in which there is nothing to read.
Hiroto, what are you--? Please, this--
You have no idea, do you? Hiroto wants to laugh, but it's absurd. How could he have let Tora live like this? Live so dangerously? Don't you see, Tora? If you had left, like you said you needed to, the chance of you dying in the process of getting to where you want to be is actually far greater than you seem to think. I can barely imagine how you summoned up the courage to catch the bus over here!
Tora's eyes had now looked past Hiroto for an escape. The room was sealed off, the only source of exit being Hiroto's curtained window and the small crack of light shining underneath the bedroom door.
Hiroto, please, if this is for something that I did, I'm sorry. Just let me go me and we'll talk about it. I love you--
I love you too. Don't you see?
But Tora doesn't.
Oh, how Hiroto loves him to. Oh yes. But Tora doesn't seem to understand how Hiroto's mind is working, how he is obviously thinking ahead, and all for Tora's well being. No matter how hard Hiroto tries to explain it, and how hard he tries to prove statistics, Tora resists his logic.
Hiroto--
He is pleading now. A madness in his voice to match the insanity in Hiroto's head.
Don't worry, Tora-shi, Hiroto crones. You are so very safe. You need to stop worrying.
And Hiroto leaves. He leaves and shuts the door behind him and goes down to the market across the street, smiling and thanking the lady as he purchases things to refill his fridge. And not once does he worry.
Because he knows exactly where Tora is.
---
Tora kept up his determination all through the day. His voice drifted out of Hiroto's bedroom almost constantly as he tried every approach he could think of to get Hiroto to release him: coaxing, pleading, demanding, threatening, crying, whining, and paniking. But all had no effect of Hiroto; in fact, it seemed that Tora's discomfort bounced right off of him as he smiled at Tora in passing the open doorway, undetoured from keeping up his normal routine.
It went on into the night, until Tora heard Hiroto shut off the television and clamber back into his room. And instead of climbing into his bed, Tora was shocked to find the boy curling up against him, whispering a small goodnight as he held Tora's body close to his own; and where that heartbeat was once a comfort to Tora, it now bore into his brain as he stared into the darkness, mind absent and body quivering. He had lost Hiroto. He didn't know how, he couldn't figure out when, but he knew it. And he was afraid.
When he woke, nothing had changed. The cries started out again, but again Hiroto only looked on, amused.
Relax Tora. You're going to be waking up safe from now on. Relax.
The day passed much like the one previously, the only interruption to Tora's parched protests being his phone, ringing softly in his pocket now and again.
The next day was the same.
And the next.
By the third day in, Tora had fallen completely silent. Any words he wanted to utter was lost by a burning throat and fading motivation.
---
If I think of all the things that could have happened to you these past days Tora, it just makes me shiver. Don't you agree?
Hiroto smiles a bit, cocking his head to meet Tora's eyes. The dark-haired man was slouched heavily against the wall next to Hiroto's bed, having moved very little and having little mobility to move any further.
Hiroto…
I mean, what would be the possibilities of you getting into a accident while in a vehicle? Much too high for me, I assure you. I always dreaded getting that phone call from a hospital, telling me you were in the ICU or something. I just don't think I could bare with that, you know? I love you too much.
He moved Tora's hair out of his eyes, waiting for his smile to be returned. Tora, however, only blinked at him, as if not fully comprehending.
Hiroto. I need water.
Hmm? Hiroto hummed. Oh yes. Water. Of course.
He filled up the glass to the brim with water from the sink and walked back into the room, lifting the glass to Tora's lips and helping him gulp down the clear liquid. Some dribbled over Tora's chin and Hiroto giggled, wiping it off with his sleeve and kissing Tora's cheek lightly before standing up and returning the glass to the sink.
Then he paused.
That water.
He felt a rush of panic. What had he just given Tora? His dear, beloved Tora, what was in that water? Alkali? Uranium? Millions of little germs, just waiting for a body to infest. How could Hiroto know the sanity of those pipes? How could he know the purity of that water? How could Hitoto protect Tora when he knew nothing about what he himself could be doing to the guitarist?
Hiroto? More water. Please. Please.
No, Tora.
He dropped the glass in the sink, glaring at the piping.
No I think not.
---
The food followed soon after.
Little maggots, Hiroto curses, Trying to poison him. Trying to kill him. Killing Tora.
The food is poisoned, he knows it is.
And as Hiroto mumbles to himself, digging through the food with his bare hands until it was splattered across the floor and counter, determined to find the faults, Tora's head hits the back of the wall in the other room, the sound somehow swallowed and muffled by the new empty space between skin and shirt.
---
Tora never said another word after that. His fingers remained drooped through the bonds that tied them, and his head hung slack, like his neck was broken. His body was frail. Fear no longer kept him screaming. Anger no longer kept him struggling. Love was such a lost memory now that it refused to guide him. Tora had been swallowed in to a darkness, where no sounds were uttered and no thoughts were processed.
A safe, perfect darkness. Just like Hiorto wanted.
---
You have such a pretty face, Tora-shi.
Hiroto ran his hand along Tora's cheekbone, leaning in to kiss his lips gently.
I'm so glad I got to you before someone else did. I can't see how anyone lurking in a dumpster or back alley would be able to resist you.
Tora's only reply is the silent tears that fall down his face.
---
Tora?
Hiroto peered into the doorway, finding Tora's form crumpled against the wall.
How long had it been? Two weeks? Three? Hiroto had lost count, he really had. But the days had been bliss, with his fear for Tora's safety no longer a demon in his mind, he could finally enjoy Tora's company. He had sat on the floor with the guitarist and talked for hours, laughing when he felt uplifted, sometimes singing when Tora's silence began to bore him.
But this time, Tora did not move at all. His chest, which had always been so warm against Hiroto's back, was no longer rising and falling. His hair, which had always felt so soft in Hiroto's fingers, was now lank and dull. His eyes, which had always shone so brightly for Hiroto, were now closed.
Hiroto smiled as he closed the door quietly, his mind cheering with joy.
Nothing could kill Tora now.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
---
Shou arrived not too long after that, waving his fingers in a friendly greeting that struck a cord so deep in Hiroto's heart that he beamed and bounded up to throw his arms around Shou's waist.
Shou laughed and held him back, responding with the usual It's so good to see you! and How have you been?
They made light conversation until Hiroto managed to guide Shou out of the doorway and over to the couch, where Shou fell against it gratefully, albeit crinkling his nose slightly.
Oh, Hiroppon, do you smell something? It smells like--
It's the cooler pads, Hiroto answer instantly. The company should be here to install new ones tomorrow. But what brings you here, Shou-kun? It's great to see you--I've been so worried, I really have.
Shou looked thoughtful for a moment, as if that statement didn't seem to make exact sense to him, but quickly covered it up with a small smile.
Actually, I was wondering, Hiroto, if you had seen Tora-shi? He hasn't been answering his phone.
Hiroto smiled instantly, much to Shou's surprise.
Oh yes. He knows just where to find Tora. He always will.
Sorry Shou. I haven't heard from him in a while. I'm sure he's fine though.
---
Hiroto runs his hands through Shou's hair, gazing down adoringly as Shou's eyes slip closed at the sensation and he snuggles deeper into Hiroto's lap.
He feels Shou's thumb carassing his hipbone, which Hiroto knew was something Shou did unconsciously when he was enjoying himself.
Hiroto giggles as he looks at the vocalist, his pretty pretty eyes misted over with the insanity Shou was too distracted to notice.
Shou? Stay the night?