[fic] Hope, Now [Uruha x Ruki (the GazettE) - 1/?]
Title: Hope, Now
Author: bent_cigarettes
Fandom: The GazettE
Type: Chaptered (1/?); song fic to “Seed” by The Academy Is…
Pairing/s: URUHA/RUKI (Uruki)
Rating: PG for now
Warning/s: Mild language. ~ 1680 words
Summary: Despite his occupation, Ruki the con artist struggles to find something real in his life.
Disclaimer: I don't own The GazettE or Suzuki Motors (Reita doesn't own them, either, prolly).
Next Chapter: Two
- - - - - - - - - - ♥ - - - - - - - - - -
Subjects are thrown around the room
looking for the ones that got away.
A feeling of soft anticipation,
another confrontation I won't make.
But how do we do it?
We turned into something else entirely;
we fake it...
But I wanted it so desperately to be real.
- - - - - - - - - - ♥ - - - - - - - - - -
To the most innocent of eyes, Ruki was a simple man who lived with his cousin or brother-depending on what he told you-in a gorgeous apartment complex in up street Tokyo. He was a handsome man who carried himself well, the epitome of grace and charisma. Ruki knew how to treat others, how to speak and when to show that polished smile of his with confidence. These characteristics were very important in his line of work.
After all, you can’t have a con artist without the confidence.
During the day, he goes around houses, mostly to those of innocent female or male youths with capable folks who aspire to be or to have something in life, and effortlessly crushes the inhabitants’ dreams with the smile they thought they could trust. Ruki uses all means necessary-from words to time to body-in order to bag a sucker.
His room mate, actually a mere friend, was named Takashima Kouyou. Tall and graceful-looking-though is anything but,-he serves as Ruki’s shill, his accomplice. Kouyou’s day-job had involved him faking death at least seven times, pretending to be innumerable relatives, peers or satisfied customers to the bogus schemes Ruki formulated. By nightfall, he works as a guitarist for a local band. Being as nice as he is, Ruki gave him the nickname Uruha, by which the man is now known as by everyone he meets, to mislead anyone who intends to look into his personal file.
While Uruha doesn’t completely approve of this illegal manner of money-making, he does very well appreciate the benefits that come with a successful scam-brand new guitars every week, a suite, a hot tub...but most of all, his happy mother who receives a check every month, thinking it came from her son’s rising band career. In reality, said career was as obscure to anyone as Ruki’s real name.
But neither bothered, really-just because, and only because, they have yet to be caught.
- - - - - - - - - - ♥ - - - - - - - - - -
“Suzuki Motors,” Uruha mused, flipping through the paper-clipped papers in his hands. He was only ever informed about their plots when it involved major marks. Otherwise, he was only called upon whenever Ruki thought he was necessary. Only when I’m necessary... “Isn’t this aiming a little too high?”
Ruki, with raven hair styled in a way that seemed to silently coax you to trust him, sat across his roommate on the table, legs crossed and fingers entwined on his lap. His brows furrowed the slightest at Uruha’s lack of enthusiasm. Why, when the idea to scam the biggest motor vehicle company came to him the night before, he was jumping for joy-because it was perfect, and would make them filthy rich.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Uru,” he said, pride dripping from his words.
Uruha sighed, dark eyes scanning the papers again, before running a hand through his blonde hair. The color was fake and foreign, of course, like everything else in his life.
“Don’t be so sure of yourself, Ruki,” he mumbled, arms crossing over the papers. “If it were that easy to nab them, then we would have done so a long time ago, correct?” Ruki nodded. “What makes you think we have a bigger chance now?”
“I know the owner’s son, Akira,” Ruki said quickly, laughing, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Suzuki Senior is quite literally weeks-or months, if you’re optimistic-from death. Unable to train his son or properly look over the corporation, he’ll leave Akira to advisors. I was just thinking; we need to be one of those guys, maybe scare him a little until he spreads his money around these shit investment deals...then boom, success.” Gelled hair shook with Ruki’s head. Seriously, it was like teaching a preschooler. Carefully scrutinizing his roommate’s face, he answered the silent question. “Uh, he was my college bud.”
“You’re heartless,” Uruha shook his head after a moment of starting incredulously at Ruki. He knew his words wouldn’t at all change the other’s mind, though, nor dampen his enthusiasm for these kinds of stunts-a sad revelation, because stripes did not flatter the smaller man’s form, nor his own. Not to mention Ruki’s tendency to have a bitch-fit every time Uruha hesitated.
His plans had to be flawless, without question or delays. Uruha was one such delay, but Ruki needed him too much, too often, to let him go.
“How will we start?”
“I knew you’d come around, Uru!” Ruki said happily, a wide smile reaching his eyes. “Okay, here’s my plan...”
- - - - - - - - - - ♥ - - - - - - - - - -
The stroke of midnight was unfelt.
Despite a scheduled band practice in the relatively early morning, Uruha had stayed up with Ruki to smooth out his plan. Ideas of beguilement, demise, theft and debauchery fell from the Ruki’s lips like it was his bible, the Ten Commandments he would so willingly live in accordance to-just to get what he wants, just to win.
With small marks, they would have finished hours ago, but one, Ruki, should not forget who they were dealing with. No...to Uruha, it was impossible to forget, because so much was on the line.
If they triumph, their bank accounts would be fuller than ever before. If they make good, Uruha can get more things to please both himself and his mother, and perhaps bribe some record company to sign his humble group of friends-or scam them, Ruki always suggested. If they even just survive, at least they’ll still have their freedom.
That’s a lot of “if’s”.
Ruki grunted, instantly pulling Uruha out of his reverie. “What’s wrong?” he asked with furrowed brows.
“You aren’t into this as much as I hoped.”
Uruha sighed. “Why would you think that?”
The other grunted again, leaning back on his chair with arms crossed. Oh, he knew more than anyone how big of a heist this is; it is all the more reason that Uruha better not be an obstacle. The blonde’s unwillingness bothered Ruki to no end, especially since Uruha can’t seem to hold a fight for very long, and ends up submitting to the scheme-no matter how small the mark.
“You’re my best friend, Kouyou,” Ruki groaned, fingers placing pressure to a temple. The use of the blonde’s real name signaled sincerity, or at least, an attempt at such. “You have to trust me on this. I know you still think it’s too big a job or whatever, but if you know Akira as well as I do, you’ll see that company burn down within three years, money lost forever. The kid is dumb, and we’re actually doing him a favor!”
That was indeed one of the many worries that clouded Uruha’s mind, but apparently not enough to fully conceal the spurious tone in Ruki’s voice.
“...I’m your best friend?”
Ruki nodded, not at all sensing the agnosticism in the blonde’s words.
“Gee, Ruki,” I didn’t know stealing for you, pretending to be someone else for you, ‘dying’ for you, and being your chauffeur entitled me to such an honor. “I don’t know what to say...”
“You’re living here. What did you think you were, silly?” Ruki smirked. Like everyone else he’s dealt with, all Uruha needs to hear are some carefully picked out words...at least, that’s what he thought.
After all, they both have secrets. Ruki had one to keep from the world, specifically the police, while Uruha hid one from his dark-haired roommate, who was contentedly unaware of the presence of said secret.
Uruha glanced up at him, scrutinizing the man’s perfectly polished facial-expressions in record time. He understood every syllable, every word that Ruki’s face gave off, from the thoughtfulness of a slightly quirked brow, to the innocence of his slightly open mouth.
No matter how much Ruki practiced his countenance, Uruha had gotten used to them all. It was almost unfair, but not quite.
“It’s because I cook for you, isn’t it?”
“Exactly,” Ruki’s smile was smug and teasing. “I mean, we have room service. Only a best friend would still bother cooking, right? Because you care so much.”
Uruha felt his chest tighten. He had expected that answer, but why did it feel like a preemptive blow? At the very least, he agreed with the final statement. Ruki was indeed his best friend, in ways that didn’t involve cons and pretending. He cared for the other, so much, in ways Uruha wished Ruki would soon come to realize for himself...in ways that were perhaps the only real thing they had between each other.
But like all things, it remains undetected. Reality can’t exist if you don’t believe in it-take Ruki for example.
Mistaking the blonde’s silence for embarrassment, the con man’s lips pursed in an attempt to hold off a chuckle. He stretched an arm over the table, and ringed fingers found calloused ones. They touched, and Uruha looked away. “We’re in this together,” Ruki said.
At that, the blonde withdrew his hand and stood abruptly, feeling tired of the conversation. “Sure, but count me out until tomorrow evening; look how late it is. I forgot I had to meet with the guys...”
One would think that Ruki, master of manipulation and reading people, would catch up quickly, would sense the apprehension in the air, and how Uruha was more than concerned-to be specific, he was completely terrified. Years with Ruki, though, taught him how to hide his feelings well. Hoping for the other’s eventual, unaided epiphany, Uruha decided to set aside these feelings, once again, and pretend to be everything no one wanted to be.
Ruki blinked at Uruha when he had gotten up and left, reason for which being said so quickly that the words seemed one. Just as soon as the blonde disappeared behind his bedroom door, Ruki forgot about him and turned the TV on.
- - - - - - - - - - ♥ - - - - - - - - - -
A/N: o_o Oh, I’m writing again? I don’t know, I just really love this song. :] It says ‘?’, but there will probably be 8 chapters. Also, I worked on this longer than I usually do with other fics, so I hope it’s decent~ ♥
Oh and, just curious. Does anyone want to see any smut in this? x_x
Author: bent_cigarettes
Fandom: The GazettE
Type: Chaptered (1/?); song fic to “Seed” by The Academy Is…
Pairing/s: URUHA/RUKI (Uruki)
Rating: PG for now
Warning/s: Mild language. ~ 1680 words
Summary: Despite his occupation, Ruki the con artist struggles to find something real in his life.
Disclaimer: I don't own The GazettE or Suzuki Motors (Reita doesn't own them, either, prolly).
Next Chapter: Two
- - - - - - - - - - ♥ - - - - - - - - - -
Subjects are thrown around the room
looking for the ones that got away.
A feeling of soft anticipation,
another confrontation I won't make.
But how do we do it?
We turned into something else entirely;
we fake it...
But I wanted it so desperately to be real.
- - - - - - - - - - ♥ - - - - - - - - - -
To the most innocent of eyes, Ruki was a simple man who lived with his cousin or brother-depending on what he told you-in a gorgeous apartment complex in up street Tokyo. He was a handsome man who carried himself well, the epitome of grace and charisma. Ruki knew how to treat others, how to speak and when to show that polished smile of his with confidence. These characteristics were very important in his line of work.
After all, you can’t have a con artist without the confidence.
During the day, he goes around houses, mostly to those of innocent female or male youths with capable folks who aspire to be or to have something in life, and effortlessly crushes the inhabitants’ dreams with the smile they thought they could trust. Ruki uses all means necessary-from words to time to body-in order to bag a sucker.
His room mate, actually a mere friend, was named Takashima Kouyou. Tall and graceful-looking-though is anything but,-he serves as Ruki’s shill, his accomplice. Kouyou’s day-job had involved him faking death at least seven times, pretending to be innumerable relatives, peers or satisfied customers to the bogus schemes Ruki formulated. By nightfall, he works as a guitarist for a local band. Being as nice as he is, Ruki gave him the nickname Uruha, by which the man is now known as by everyone he meets, to mislead anyone who intends to look into his personal file.
While Uruha doesn’t completely approve of this illegal manner of money-making, he does very well appreciate the benefits that come with a successful scam-brand new guitars every week, a suite, a hot tub...but most of all, his happy mother who receives a check every month, thinking it came from her son’s rising band career. In reality, said career was as obscure to anyone as Ruki’s real name.
But neither bothered, really-just because, and only because, they have yet to be caught.
- - - - - - - - - - ♥ - - - - - - - - - -
“Suzuki Motors,” Uruha mused, flipping through the paper-clipped papers in his hands. He was only ever informed about their plots when it involved major marks. Otherwise, he was only called upon whenever Ruki thought he was necessary. Only when I’m necessary... “Isn’t this aiming a little too high?”
Ruki, with raven hair styled in a way that seemed to silently coax you to trust him, sat across his roommate on the table, legs crossed and fingers entwined on his lap. His brows furrowed the slightest at Uruha’s lack of enthusiasm. Why, when the idea to scam the biggest motor vehicle company came to him the night before, he was jumping for joy-because it was perfect, and would make them filthy rich.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Uru,” he said, pride dripping from his words.
Uruha sighed, dark eyes scanning the papers again, before running a hand through his blonde hair. The color was fake and foreign, of course, like everything else in his life.
“Don’t be so sure of yourself, Ruki,” he mumbled, arms crossing over the papers. “If it were that easy to nab them, then we would have done so a long time ago, correct?” Ruki nodded. “What makes you think we have a bigger chance now?”
“I know the owner’s son, Akira,” Ruki said quickly, laughing, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Suzuki Senior is quite literally weeks-or months, if you’re optimistic-from death. Unable to train his son or properly look over the corporation, he’ll leave Akira to advisors. I was just thinking; we need to be one of those guys, maybe scare him a little until he spreads his money around these shit investment deals...then boom, success.” Gelled hair shook with Ruki’s head. Seriously, it was like teaching a preschooler. Carefully scrutinizing his roommate’s face, he answered the silent question. “Uh, he was my college bud.”
“You’re heartless,” Uruha shook his head after a moment of starting incredulously at Ruki. He knew his words wouldn’t at all change the other’s mind, though, nor dampen his enthusiasm for these kinds of stunts-a sad revelation, because stripes did not flatter the smaller man’s form, nor his own. Not to mention Ruki’s tendency to have a bitch-fit every time Uruha hesitated.
His plans had to be flawless, without question or delays. Uruha was one such delay, but Ruki needed him too much, too often, to let him go.
“How will we start?”
“I knew you’d come around, Uru!” Ruki said happily, a wide smile reaching his eyes. “Okay, here’s my plan...”
- - - - - - - - - - ♥ - - - - - - - - - -
The stroke of midnight was unfelt.
Despite a scheduled band practice in the relatively early morning, Uruha had stayed up with Ruki to smooth out his plan. Ideas of beguilement, demise, theft and debauchery fell from the Ruki’s lips like it was his bible, the Ten Commandments he would so willingly live in accordance to-just to get what he wants, just to win.
With small marks, they would have finished hours ago, but one, Ruki, should not forget who they were dealing with. No...to Uruha, it was impossible to forget, because so much was on the line.
If they triumph, their bank accounts would be fuller than ever before. If they make good, Uruha can get more things to please both himself and his mother, and perhaps bribe some record company to sign his humble group of friends-or scam them, Ruki always suggested. If they even just survive, at least they’ll still have their freedom.
That’s a lot of “if’s”.
Ruki grunted, instantly pulling Uruha out of his reverie. “What’s wrong?” he asked with furrowed brows.
“You aren’t into this as much as I hoped.”
Uruha sighed. “Why would you think that?”
The other grunted again, leaning back on his chair with arms crossed. Oh, he knew more than anyone how big of a heist this is; it is all the more reason that Uruha better not be an obstacle. The blonde’s unwillingness bothered Ruki to no end, especially since Uruha can’t seem to hold a fight for very long, and ends up submitting to the scheme-no matter how small the mark.
“You’re my best friend, Kouyou,” Ruki groaned, fingers placing pressure to a temple. The use of the blonde’s real name signaled sincerity, or at least, an attempt at such. “You have to trust me on this. I know you still think it’s too big a job or whatever, but if you know Akira as well as I do, you’ll see that company burn down within three years, money lost forever. The kid is dumb, and we’re actually doing him a favor!”
That was indeed one of the many worries that clouded Uruha’s mind, but apparently not enough to fully conceal the spurious tone in Ruki’s voice.
“...I’m your best friend?”
Ruki nodded, not at all sensing the agnosticism in the blonde’s words.
“Gee, Ruki,” I didn’t know stealing for you, pretending to be someone else for you, ‘dying’ for you, and being your chauffeur entitled me to such an honor. “I don’t know what to say...”
“You’re living here. What did you think you were, silly?” Ruki smirked. Like everyone else he’s dealt with, all Uruha needs to hear are some carefully picked out words...at least, that’s what he thought.
After all, they both have secrets. Ruki had one to keep from the world, specifically the police, while Uruha hid one from his dark-haired roommate, who was contentedly unaware of the presence of said secret.
Uruha glanced up at him, scrutinizing the man’s perfectly polished facial-expressions in record time. He understood every syllable, every word that Ruki’s face gave off, from the thoughtfulness of a slightly quirked brow, to the innocence of his slightly open mouth.
No matter how much Ruki practiced his countenance, Uruha had gotten used to them all. It was almost unfair, but not quite.
“It’s because I cook for you, isn’t it?”
“Exactly,” Ruki’s smile was smug and teasing. “I mean, we have room service. Only a best friend would still bother cooking, right? Because you care so much.”
Uruha felt his chest tighten. He had expected that answer, but why did it feel like a preemptive blow? At the very least, he agreed with the final statement. Ruki was indeed his best friend, in ways that didn’t involve cons and pretending. He cared for the other, so much, in ways Uruha wished Ruki would soon come to realize for himself...in ways that were perhaps the only real thing they had between each other.
But like all things, it remains undetected. Reality can’t exist if you don’t believe in it-take Ruki for example.
Mistaking the blonde’s silence for embarrassment, the con man’s lips pursed in an attempt to hold off a chuckle. He stretched an arm over the table, and ringed fingers found calloused ones. They touched, and Uruha looked away. “We’re in this together,” Ruki said.
At that, the blonde withdrew his hand and stood abruptly, feeling tired of the conversation. “Sure, but count me out until tomorrow evening; look how late it is. I forgot I had to meet with the guys...”
One would think that Ruki, master of manipulation and reading people, would catch up quickly, would sense the apprehension in the air, and how Uruha was more than concerned-to be specific, he was completely terrified. Years with Ruki, though, taught him how to hide his feelings well. Hoping for the other’s eventual, unaided epiphany, Uruha decided to set aside these feelings, once again, and pretend to be everything no one wanted to be.
Ruki blinked at Uruha when he had gotten up and left, reason for which being said so quickly that the words seemed one. Just as soon as the blonde disappeared behind his bedroom door, Ruki forgot about him and turned the TV on.
- - - - - - - - - - ♥ - - - - - - - - - -
A/N: o_o Oh, I’m writing again? I don’t know, I just really love this song. :] It says ‘?’, but there will probably be 8 chapters. Also, I worked on this longer than I usually do with other fics, so I hope it’s decent~ ♥
Oh and, just curious. Does anyone want to see any smut in this? x_x