Reita x Ruki: Abandoned Instincts [3/?]

[akaiite]

Title: Abandoned Instincts

Chapter: [3/?]
Author: 
akaiite

Genre: Coming Out, Romance

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Language, Sex

Pairings/Characters: Reita x Ruki; Uruha x Aoi

Synopsis: Suzuki Akira is just about at the end of his rope with his dead end job that he took up since running away from home. Day in and day out it’s the same thing until Matsumoto Takanori shows up, changing everything.

Comments: Something I’ve been working on for a really long time. I hope you guys enjoy it. Just note, I don’t own the GazettE… even though that would be kind of awesome! I’ve rated it NC-17 because I of where I intend it to go. The first few chapters are safe.

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Akira pulled on a fresh pair of boxers and a Sex Pistols tour shirt before stalking out of his bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen. His hair was still dripping wet. He hadn’t bothered to towel it off after leaving the bathroom. Drops of water were dripping off the tips of his hair, soaking the back of his shirt. It clung to the skin of his back as he reached towards the refrigerator handle, groping in the darkness because he was too lazy to turn on the light. He pulled open the door, and the light in the back flickered on, the only light in the dark kitchen. Typical. There was barely anything on the shelves.

Half a jug of milk on the door. A carton of eggs. A drawer full of vegetable, one that Akira usually left untouched. That was Kouyou’s drawer. Akira didn’t like vegetables anyways. On the top shelf was a few bottles of beer. Akira didn’t really care what kind of beer. He reached out and grabbed two bottles before closing the door and returning to the living room where he could still hear Kouyou playing that racing game.

He flopped down on the couch beside his roommate, and twisted the cap off the dark bottle.

“Here,” he grunted, handing the bottle to Kouyou.

“You done being a bitch?” Kouyou asked, taking the bottle from Akira. Akira laughed bitterly as he twisted the cap off his own beer and tossed the two caps on the table where Kouyou had his feet propped up.

“For now, I guess,” Akira replied.

“Good. Because if I wanted to spend time with bitches, I would date women,” Kouyou sneered passed the bottle pressed to his lips.

That was when the memory of the conversation Akira had over heard flooded back to him. His grip tightened around the bottle, his knuckles going white.

He was pretty sure he was just upset on Kouyou’s behalf. Kouyou was like any other guy he knew. He drank beer. He played video games. He liked cars. By all accounts, Kouyou was manly. At first glance, many people assumed Kouyou was straight. He could certainly confuse the masses. Hell, he had Akira tricked for years.

There had been a time when Akira had been uncomfortable with the thought of anyone being gay. Back then it hadn’t even occurred to him that it was even a possibility. Anything outside of the norm was not even a possibility. He had led a sheltered childhood in Kouyou’s shadow, and never had he thought that Kouyou was any different than him.

But that was just it. Kouyou wasn’t different. Kouyou was just as normal as anyone else. He drank beer. He played video games. He liked cars. He fell in love.

Maybe that’s why Akira could feel hot anger bubbling in his stomach, churning the beer that he had just drank. He could feel his throat burning. Maybe that was why his knuckles were still white, and his hands were shaking, sloshing beer on his boxers.

“Man, I know it’s a touchy subject, but I thought you were over it,” Kouyou commented, noticing Akira’s reaction when some cold beer splashed onto his bare leg.

“Oh. It’s not that,” Akira grunted, taking a deep breath, trying to release his frustration. “Just drop it, kay?” As much as he wanted to talk to Kouyou about what he had heard he was afraid. Akira wasn’t stupid. Kouyou obviously knew about the kinds of things people called him and others both to their faces and behind their backs. Kouyou wasn’t blind to the hate crimes like everyone else was. He was fully aware that everyday another child was being beaten, tortured, tormented, or mocked because of his sexuality. Akira knew all this, and yet he still felt some need to protect his friend from the reality of the situation. He was afraid of what Kouyou might do to find out just how close to home the hate was hitting. Six degrees of separation just became four. Somewhere in this end of town was a kid with a broken nose and a black eye just because he was gay. Kouyou didn’t need to know about that.

Kouyou stared at his friend for a moment, his eyes narrowed. Akira was a terrible liar, and Kouyou could see right through him. Luckily, Kouyou had known Akira long enough that he knew better than to press a situation. Akira usually just shut down when someone pressed to hard. He shrugged and returned to his game and beer.

Akira fell into his thoughts which lulled him into a state of peacefulness. Of course he found his mind wandering back to the little guy in the bowling alley earlier. The word he had used still escaped him. Ephebe. What the fuck did that even mean?

“Kouyou?” Akira grunted after a few minutes of chewing on the word. He felt stupid. His face was growing hot and red. He hated feeling stupid. Especially in front of Kouyou. Deep down he knew that Kouyou didn’t judge him. “Can I ask you something?” Kouyou looked over at his friend, his eyebrows knit with confusion.

“What are your curious about, Akira?” Kouyou finally asked, his voice soft and somewhat sultry. He fluttered his eyelashes slightly.

“Fuck man! Not that kind of question!” Akira snapped, throwing a pillow on the couch at him.

“I know, I’m just fucking with you,” Kouyou replied, a mocking bite in his tone. “Ask away my friend. I know all!”

“Like hell you do!” Akira said, laughing now.

“I KNOW ALL THE THINGS!” Kouyou shouted and threw his hands in the air dramatically. Akira raised his eyebrows at his friend.

“Kay. No. Seriously. I need to ask you what a word means,” Akira finally said when Kouyou took the hint that Akira wasn’t in the mood.

“What word. I know all the…”

“no…”

“Okay… what word,”

“Ephebe,” Akira enunciated the word slowly, trying his best to say it properly, blushing slightly. He felt stupid again. Kouyou looked thoughtful for a moment and finally smiled

“From what I know it means good looking young man,” Akira blushed furiously, remembering the context of the conversation. Did that guy essentially tell me he was attracted to me? “Why?”

“Uh…”

“Did someone say that to you?”

“No!” Akira quickly thought up an excuse. “Overheard it.”

Kouyou raised his eyebrow but didn’t press the matter. Akira brought his beer back to his lips, pretending like the conversation hadn’t just happened. After a moment Kouyou returned to his game.

Akira watched Kouyou play the game as he slowly sipped on his beer. Some how this was relaxing, sitting on the couch beside his best friend, drinking beer. They didn’t really need to talk. Akira liked to pretend that their friendship transcended the need for idle chatter. It probably wasn’t true, but Akira could pretend. They could fall through time like it wasn’t really passing. He could pretend that all the hell the day had put him through was just a dream and that this was reality. He could pretend that nothing beyond their friendship, this bottle of steadily warming beer, and the tv screen existed.

But time has a funny way of working. When you want it to speed up, it drags it’s feet, moving ever slower until it seems that time isn’t passing at all. When you want it to slow down so you can enjoy the moment, it decides to put on its running shoes. Akira looked down at his wrist watch what seemed like only half an hour later.

“FUCK!” he shouted, scrambling up from the couch.

“THE FUCK MAN?” Kouyou yelled, startled by Akira’s sudden shout.

“Fuck! It’s four in the morning!” Akira grabbed the now empty beer bottles off the table and half jogged to the kitchen. How had that much time passed? How was it so late. Fuck. The sun was probably already rising. He needed to sleep so that he could function at work tomorrow… today…

“You going to sleep?” Kouyou called after him.

“Of course I’m going to go to sleep!” Akira called over his shoulder, “I work in less than 12 hours…”

“Alright, man…” Kouyou called back. He had obviously stopped listening.

Akira flopped on his bed after picking around the piles of clothes littered around the floor in his bedroom. He pushed a pile of clean clothes off his bed where it scattered on the floor, now strewn with the littered dirty laundry. Akira really didn’t care. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.

Akira usually couldn’t remember his dreams, but when he did they were fucked up. This dream was no different. He was only able to hold on to bits and pieces of it as he woke. The rest of the details escaped his grasp like trying to hold onto water.

What he could remember was a little guy. A faceless guy. But Akira was pretty sure who it was. He came up to Akira and whispered something to him before holding out his hand. For a moment Akira hesitated, but then he thought what the hell and took the faceless stranger’s hand. Suddenly they were flying (?) away and the faceless man was whispering sweet nothings to him. Akira awoke in a cold sweat. The fuck? He looked at his clock. It was just after 10 am. Of course it was. He could never sleep in past 10:30. No matter how hard he tried.

Groaning, he got out of bed and stumbled down the hall to the kitchen. As he passed the living room he noticed that the television was still lit up with the game, but Kouyou was passed out on the couch. He walked over to the television and turned it off. Kouyou wouldn’t be up for a few hours anyways. He turned to continue his trek to the kitchen but remembered there was nothing left in the fridge.

He stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the hallway. The slight draft in the apartment brushed passed his legs reminding him that he was still only in his boxers as he rubbed the sleep from his eye. What the fuck am I going to eat? Running his hand through his bleached hair, he continued to stand half naked in the hallway, utterly baffled. I could go to Starbucks or something. He finally concluded. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea. I’ve been craving a good latte. Oh god. How Gay was that…

Akira turned on his heel and returned to his bedroom. He glared down at the pile of clothes on the floor. What was he going to wear. For a moment he stared at the pile and then bent over to fish a pair of torn up jeans and a black t-shirt out of the mix. Bringing the shirt up to his face he gave it a sniff. Yup. That smells clean enough to me. And he pulled it over his head. He slide into his jeans, which still had a studded belt in the loops. Jacket. Jacket. Jacket. He leaned over the pile for a moment, stirring the contents around before finally pulling out a leather jacket. He pulled that on over the black shirt. Alright. You are one good looking, bad ass guy! He thought as he ran his hand through his hair once more.

Leaving a note for Kouyou explaining where he went, he grabbed his bike keys and helmet and left out the door.

It didn’t matter how bad of a mood he was in. Riding his bike made him the happiest person on the planet. The euphoria brought a stupid smile to his face as he sped down the narrow streets, weaving in and out of cars. The feeling of the engine roaring between his thighs. The wind brushing passed his body. The landscape flying by. It was true freedom. It was true happiness. The bike responded to his slightest movement. He needed only think about what he wanted to do and it responded. The bike was like an extension of his body. Too soon the ride was over and he was in the parking lot of the local Starbucks.

He swung his leg over the bike to dismount the bike and ripped off his helmet. He tucked the helmet under his arm and strutted towards the front door of the Starbucks. Yeah. He was hot shit. People should stop and stare and bask in his awesomeness. He let a small smile turn up the corners of his mouth.

There weren’t many people in the Starbucks. Akira didn’t really bother to take in any of the faces. He needed his coffee. He didn’t care about the other people right now.

“Hi! What can I get for you?” the small girl behind the counter asked. She smiled sweetly. She batted her eyelashes. Knowing exactly what she was thinking, Akira flashed her a smile.

“I’ll have a grande extra whip four pump vanilla half foam Caramel Macchiato,” he said, puffing out his chest a bit and flashing the girl another smile. The girl just looked at him. Completely dumb founded.

“Excuse me?”

“A grande extra whip four pump vanilla half foam Caramel Macchiato,” he repeated slowly. She smiled again. “Oh, and an Oat Fudge Bar”

“Sure!” and she scribbled the order on the side of a cup. He paid for his drink and bar and moved down to the other end of the bar to wait for his drink. As he leaned against the bar, his helmet still tucked under his arm, he looked around the Starbucks, now interested in seeing the faces in the building. There was a couple of girls chatting avidly over coffee at a table to his right. An old couple sat at another table with a slice of some kind of lemon loaf and coffee in to stay mugs. Tucked in the corner in the squishy arm chairs was a man in his mid to late thirties sitting across from a younger guy. Akira couldn’t really see the younger guy. He was facing away from him, and he was so short that the top of his head barely cleared the top of the high backed chair.

He turned around to face the barista to see the progress on his coffee when he heard a voice come from the occupant of the chair that was facing away from him.

“Yeah, well I’ve never been interested in that genre of music anyways,” The voice sounded familiar. Like out of a dream or something. Akira tried to put his finger on it. It escaped him.

“A grande extra whip four pump vanilla half foam Caramel Macchiato,” came the Baristas voice, bringing him back to the present.

“Uhh, thanks,” Akira grunted grabbing a plastic lid and putting it on his drink.

“One sec,” the voice from the chair said, “I’ll be right back,” Out of the corner of his eye, Akira saw the person stand up. He almost dropped his coffee. Standing in the corner of his Starbucks was short little guy with a round face and shaggy brown hair. Akira felt his heart jump to his throat. Oh Fuck. It’s him! Normally he wouldn’t have cared, but for some reason this guy was plaguing even his dreams, and now here he was, standing in the Starbucks the Akira frequented. Fuck. Do I say hi? Do I wave? No. That would be weird. We had one encounter. Ever. I don’t even know his name. Fuck. I’ll just ignore him. Pretend I didn’t see him. Yeah. I’ll walk out that door and pretend I didn’t see him. Maybe he won’t notice me. Akira redoubled his grip on his coffee cup and strolled towards the door, his previous swagger no existent. He kept his eyes fixed on his bike and just kept walking, his shoulders hunched over, trying every way possible to remain completely invisible.

“HEY!” He heard the shout just as he pushed against the door with his shoulder. “Tough guy!” Fuck. He spotted me. 
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