A Far Better Thing - Aki/Hiroto [oneshot]
Title: A Far Better Thing
Author: beyondtheremix
Genre: fail angst
Pairing: Aki/Hiroto
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: mentions of sex
Summary: Friends. Friends with benefits. Friends. It takes a certain amount of courage to go above and beyond.
A Far Better Thing
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
- Pablo Neruda
Hiroto closed his eyes and listened to the soft skid-tap-squeak of sneakers retreating down the hall. He never understood rules, never understood the way society was programmed to hate certain things and glorify others, never ceased to wonder how he could breathe in a new day when he was such a "bad" person; wrong in all the ways that seemed to "matter".
Is it okay if I love you?
Could he say it? A simple question. Three far too important words he whispered alone to himself day in and day out. I love you. There was just too much, too many people against everything Hiroto's ever felt, twice as many against everything he's ever wanted. And Aki... Aki just smiles like nothing's wrong. Hiroto wakes up in an empty bed and Aki acts like nothing's ever happened.
Rolling off the creaking mattress, he drags his feet into Aki’s bathroom. A quick shower and he’ll be gone with the morning. Another morning and he’ll be right back where he started - gasping beneath sultry looks and ringed fingers. Every tick of the clock brings him a step closer to the same fluffed pillows and deceivingly white sheets. Every honk of the horn another sensible “no” lost in the din of rush hour. And every toed footstep towards the shower is a delayed hope he’ll come back.
Warm jets of water hit Hiroto's shoulders as he grabs Aki's bar of soap. Part of him knows the smell will linger all day, remind him of the empty give and take they share, the worthless disrespect he feels. But desperation says he wants to smell like Aki, wants to hold on to the fluttering feelings in his heart, fading faith for the future. Wants to remember.
Maybe today.
---
Aki rams the heel of his right foot against the floor, trying to shove his feet into already laced up shoes as he continued down the hall. He never understood night, never understood why night had to end with morning, why most people hated the dark and worshipped light.
He preferred the places between light, the twilights, dawns and dreams. Late nights he could draw out so long as he had someone writhing beneath him, wrinkling the sheets and scratching lines up his shoulders. However, these days it seemed the same person was frequenting his bed; the same teeth biting lip, eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched with pleasure.
The ding of an elevator signaled a switch in Aki’s concentration from the shadowed outlines of his bed to the heavy rise and fall of his stomach, metallic walls of the lift. The guilt bubbling inside his throat was sometimes too easy to ignore, the wistful eyes so easy to write off. Fuck.
Aki was many things, believed in quite a few wrongs, just as many rights. He believed in sex, music and alcohol. He believed the toxic tobacco felt good in his lungs, the pierce and ink of a needle love on his skin. But what Aki did not believe in was sleeping with friends.
More than his delirious nights of indulgence and nihilistic shows of cash, Aki’s friends meant something. He didn’t sleep around with any of them, he treasured his friends, kept them untainted in his thoroughly stained world, valued their time and respected their tendencies. And that was why Aki didn’t understand how easily his mind and body could give in these days.
Hiroto. Hiroto wasn’t just a friend; he was one of Aki’s close friends, one of the few seemingly too innocent and passionate about life - too good of a person - to corrupt. And yet here they were, not even an hour since Hiroto’s eyes had slid shut and Aki was already running away. Again. Too afraid to admit that maybe there was something more to this than bodily enjoyment, unconditional loyalty.
Swearing, Aki stopped just outside the large glass windows of his apartment building. The night air was strong on his tongue, but he wanted it gone, wanted to forget it was night, forget what he did every night. Lighting up Aki tried to pretend he was someone else.
---
In Aki’s bathroom Hiroto hugged himself, tried desperately to pull his gaze away from the ripped jeans balanced precariously on bruised hips, the tender raw of his lips. His reflection watched with sad eyes as he ran a tired hand through damp hair. Composure; he needed it, needed to rethread the needle of his spine and sew the broken pieces of himself back together - and soon. The morning was always another fight to remember who he was, but it seemed to get harder every time.
Trying to remember the old him, trying to make sense of the new him. Hiroto couldn’t tell the difference, couldn’t remember the times before Aki. It’s love, he tried to convince himself. There couldn’t possibly be another reason, no explanation for the touches behind closed doors, the warmth between dark sheets.
I’m here because he loves me.
Strengthening his resolve, Hiroto pulled the sleeves of him jacket over purpling wrists and walked out the door. It was the only thing he could do, believe and hope in what couldn’t possibly be true, because the truth hurt. The truth wrenched him awake as Aki’s footsteps faded down the hall. The truth silenced those three words in his throat.
Maybe today. Maybe today Aki would turn around and tell Hiroto everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Maybe today he’d have the strength to voice those three words. Maybe today he could look Aki in the eye one last time and never come back.
The ding of an elevator told Hiroto it was the beginning of a new day. Stepping off the lift he started counting down the seconds, hoping his wall would rebuild itself before that same stare broke him down completely. Every time it gets harder to rebuild, every hasty second adds a new crack to his fortress, a weak spot and empty hole.
Swearing as the seat of his pants began to slip further down, Hiroto fumbled to hold up his jeans as he pushed open a glass door and walked out.
“Ow. Shit.” They both recoil from the collision, Aki grabbing hold of Hiroto’s arms to stop him from meeting the sidewalk as the door closed behind him. He could feel the other tense even as he released the smaller man and stubbed the last of his cigarette out on the pavement.
“Sorry about that,” Hiroto mumbled. He was trying hard not to make eye contact, trying hard to focus on standing and breathing and being numb.
“No problem. I just needed to go out for a smoke…” Aki trailed off. His eighth floor apartment came with a sizable balcony; they both knew that. “You… you can spend the night, it’s not a problem.” It was a problem because it just wasn’t done.
“N-no that’s okay,” Hiroto stuttered between sidelong glances. He wasn’t ready. He was never ready. And tonight of all nights he couldn’t make himself ready. “I… I can still make the last train home.” Lies. All lies. Hiroto could feel his insides curling up with shame and anger, confusion, sadness, longing and fear. He needed time before these things. Time to heal.
“Oh, well, I can walk you there,” Aki offered. “Or… at least halfway there. I… I didn’t lock the door,” he reasoned. Grimacing, Hiroto nodded at his shoes. He couldn’t say no. Not went he wanted nothing more than to be with Aki. Not when there was the slightest hope that his hesitation might mean something more.
Aki ignored the hard tugs Hiroto was causing in his chest. Most days he’s gone when the older man comes back. The bed is empty, sometimes made, everything is back in its place, all in order, and Aki can pretend nothing ever happened. The next night comes and he can pretend it’s new. The way he presses Hiroto against the wall, seals their lips and pulls him down - it’s “new.” The feelings are new. He can push it all aside because everything is new and happening far too soon to be true.
He smiles because the fantasy is real; it has to be real. Otherwise there wasn’t any possible explanation for the way Hiroto keeps coming back, the way his room feels completely unused and his bathroom walls a drying damp.
Shuffling his feet dejectedly as the squares of sidewalk drift past, Hiroto held onto the waistband of his jeans and listened to the silence. Inside he tried not to panic.
They were alone. If Aki could pretend he could too. Right? He could pretend he was strong and Aki loved him and this… this was his chance.
A confession, words, they began to reform in Hiroto’s mind and slowly he was able to chin-up and watch the lampposts pass instead of the cold cement.
Is it okay if I love you?
He could say it.
He would say it.
But at the next lamppost, he thought. The next…
And the next…
And the next…
And then Hiroto was sitting alone in the empty subway, countless lampposts past, pass the point where Aki turned back; walking alone, waiting for the courage to whisper those three far too important words.
Behind closed doors, between dark sheets. Aki liked the night, the dark and the in between. And maybe, maybe Hiroto just needed to stay there. In shadows, longing between souls and hiding amongst secrets until that one day came where he could shine in the sun, fill up and revel in the light, be loved.
A/N:
For aliceinfiction .
Archive
Author: beyondtheremix
Genre: fail angst
Pairing: Aki/Hiroto
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: mentions of sex
Summary: Friends. Friends with benefits. Friends. It takes a certain amount of courage to go above and beyond.
A Far Better Thing
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
- Pablo Neruda
Hiroto closed his eyes and listened to the soft skid-tap-squeak of sneakers retreating down the hall. He never understood rules, never understood the way society was programmed to hate certain things and glorify others, never ceased to wonder how he could breathe in a new day when he was such a "bad" person; wrong in all the ways that seemed to "matter".
Is it okay if I love you?
Could he say it? A simple question. Three far too important words he whispered alone to himself day in and day out. I love you. There was just too much, too many people against everything Hiroto's ever felt, twice as many against everything he's ever wanted. And Aki... Aki just smiles like nothing's wrong. Hiroto wakes up in an empty bed and Aki acts like nothing's ever happened.
Rolling off the creaking mattress, he drags his feet into Aki’s bathroom. A quick shower and he’ll be gone with the morning. Another morning and he’ll be right back where he started - gasping beneath sultry looks and ringed fingers. Every tick of the clock brings him a step closer to the same fluffed pillows and deceivingly white sheets. Every honk of the horn another sensible “no” lost in the din of rush hour. And every toed footstep towards the shower is a delayed hope he’ll come back.
Warm jets of water hit Hiroto's shoulders as he grabs Aki's bar of soap. Part of him knows the smell will linger all day, remind him of the empty give and take they share, the worthless disrespect he feels. But desperation says he wants to smell like Aki, wants to hold on to the fluttering feelings in his heart, fading faith for the future. Wants to remember.
Maybe today.
---
Aki rams the heel of his right foot against the floor, trying to shove his feet into already laced up shoes as he continued down the hall. He never understood night, never understood why night had to end with morning, why most people hated the dark and worshipped light.
He preferred the places between light, the twilights, dawns and dreams. Late nights he could draw out so long as he had someone writhing beneath him, wrinkling the sheets and scratching lines up his shoulders. However, these days it seemed the same person was frequenting his bed; the same teeth biting lip, eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched with pleasure.
The ding of an elevator signaled a switch in Aki’s concentration from the shadowed outlines of his bed to the heavy rise and fall of his stomach, metallic walls of the lift. The guilt bubbling inside his throat was sometimes too easy to ignore, the wistful eyes so easy to write off. Fuck.
Aki was many things, believed in quite a few wrongs, just as many rights. He believed in sex, music and alcohol. He believed the toxic tobacco felt good in his lungs, the pierce and ink of a needle love on his skin. But what Aki did not believe in was sleeping with friends.
More than his delirious nights of indulgence and nihilistic shows of cash, Aki’s friends meant something. He didn’t sleep around with any of them, he treasured his friends, kept them untainted in his thoroughly stained world, valued their time and respected their tendencies. And that was why Aki didn’t understand how easily his mind and body could give in these days.
Hiroto. Hiroto wasn’t just a friend; he was one of Aki’s close friends, one of the few seemingly too innocent and passionate about life - too good of a person - to corrupt. And yet here they were, not even an hour since Hiroto’s eyes had slid shut and Aki was already running away. Again. Too afraid to admit that maybe there was something more to this than bodily enjoyment, unconditional loyalty.
Swearing, Aki stopped just outside the large glass windows of his apartment building. The night air was strong on his tongue, but he wanted it gone, wanted to forget it was night, forget what he did every night. Lighting up Aki tried to pretend he was someone else.
---
In Aki’s bathroom Hiroto hugged himself, tried desperately to pull his gaze away from the ripped jeans balanced precariously on bruised hips, the tender raw of his lips. His reflection watched with sad eyes as he ran a tired hand through damp hair. Composure; he needed it, needed to rethread the needle of his spine and sew the broken pieces of himself back together - and soon. The morning was always another fight to remember who he was, but it seemed to get harder every time.
Trying to remember the old him, trying to make sense of the new him. Hiroto couldn’t tell the difference, couldn’t remember the times before Aki. It’s love, he tried to convince himself. There couldn’t possibly be another reason, no explanation for the touches behind closed doors, the warmth between dark sheets.
I’m here because he loves me.
Strengthening his resolve, Hiroto pulled the sleeves of him jacket over purpling wrists and walked out the door. It was the only thing he could do, believe and hope in what couldn’t possibly be true, because the truth hurt. The truth wrenched him awake as Aki’s footsteps faded down the hall. The truth silenced those three words in his throat.
Maybe today. Maybe today Aki would turn around and tell Hiroto everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Maybe today he’d have the strength to voice those three words. Maybe today he could look Aki in the eye one last time and never come back.
The ding of an elevator told Hiroto it was the beginning of a new day. Stepping off the lift he started counting down the seconds, hoping his wall would rebuild itself before that same stare broke him down completely. Every time it gets harder to rebuild, every hasty second adds a new crack to his fortress, a weak spot and empty hole.
Swearing as the seat of his pants began to slip further down, Hiroto fumbled to hold up his jeans as he pushed open a glass door and walked out.
“Ow. Shit.” They both recoil from the collision, Aki grabbing hold of Hiroto’s arms to stop him from meeting the sidewalk as the door closed behind him. He could feel the other tense even as he released the smaller man and stubbed the last of his cigarette out on the pavement.
“Sorry about that,” Hiroto mumbled. He was trying hard not to make eye contact, trying hard to focus on standing and breathing and being numb.
“No problem. I just needed to go out for a smoke…” Aki trailed off. His eighth floor apartment came with a sizable balcony; they both knew that. “You… you can spend the night, it’s not a problem.” It was a problem because it just wasn’t done.
“N-no that’s okay,” Hiroto stuttered between sidelong glances. He wasn’t ready. He was never ready. And tonight of all nights he couldn’t make himself ready. “I… I can still make the last train home.” Lies. All lies. Hiroto could feel his insides curling up with shame and anger, confusion, sadness, longing and fear. He needed time before these things. Time to heal.
“Oh, well, I can walk you there,” Aki offered. “Or… at least halfway there. I… I didn’t lock the door,” he reasoned. Grimacing, Hiroto nodded at his shoes. He couldn’t say no. Not went he wanted nothing more than to be with Aki. Not when there was the slightest hope that his hesitation might mean something more.
Aki ignored the hard tugs Hiroto was causing in his chest. Most days he’s gone when the older man comes back. The bed is empty, sometimes made, everything is back in its place, all in order, and Aki can pretend nothing ever happened. The next night comes and he can pretend it’s new. The way he presses Hiroto against the wall, seals their lips and pulls him down - it’s “new.” The feelings are new. He can push it all aside because everything is new and happening far too soon to be true.
He smiles because the fantasy is real; it has to be real. Otherwise there wasn’t any possible explanation for the way Hiroto keeps coming back, the way his room feels completely unused and his bathroom walls a drying damp.
Shuffling his feet dejectedly as the squares of sidewalk drift past, Hiroto held onto the waistband of his jeans and listened to the silence. Inside he tried not to panic.
They were alone. If Aki could pretend he could too. Right? He could pretend he was strong and Aki loved him and this… this was his chance.
A confession, words, they began to reform in Hiroto’s mind and slowly he was able to chin-up and watch the lampposts pass instead of the cold cement.
Is it okay if I love you?
He could say it.
He would say it.
But at the next lamppost, he thought. The next…
And the next…
And the next…
And then Hiroto was sitting alone in the empty subway, countless lampposts past, pass the point where Aki turned back; walking alone, waiting for the courage to whisper those three far too important words.
Behind closed doors, between dark sheets. Aki liked the night, the dark and the in between. And maybe, maybe Hiroto just needed to stay there. In shadows, longing between souls and hiding amongst secrets until that one day came where he could shine in the sun, fill up and revel in the light, be loved.
A/N:
For aliceinfiction .
Archive