Keeping Faith.
Title: Keeping Faith.
Chapter: Oneshot
Author: chinesetakeout
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha
Summary: He hadn’t the heart to take the photographs of him and Uruha with him; he’d left them hanging on the walls and the remainder standing upright. It hadn’t escaped him how Uruha had flipped portraits over and placed others against the glass beneath them. It hurt Aoi more than anything to know Uruha couldn’t stand to look at them when they had once been happy.
Rating: PG13
Genre: romance, angst
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: No.
Comments: My first story in over a month. Written for domenoworlater under 'break.'
Against his better judgement, Uruha stood outside, the chilly breeze and dark clouds indicating rain. But still the outside chill was preferable to the heartache Uruha knew would await him if he stepped through the sliding glass door that lay behind him, leading him into his shared apartment of four years. For inside, picture frames lay face down, the TV turned off and music on pause. The bed was unmade, the only bit of familiarity in the growing world of unfamiliarity for Uruha. There were boxes labeled ‘Aoi’ in big pencil letters, outlined in sharpie. There was even a person packing these named boxes, the person none other than Aoi himself.
Aoi called it a trial separation, as though they were married. Uruha supposed in a sense they were. They could finish each others sentences, name off their favorite foods. They could recite their first date and describe their first kiss (awkward, messy, but loving all the same). They knew each others past by heart, had grown to love both their families and see them as one. But what neither could name, what neither could pinpoint, was when all of this knowledge and all of their love hadn’t been enough to support them, to support their relationship.
It was easy for people to say love made the world go round, that all someone needed was love to keep a relationship stable. Often times, Uruha found this came from the people who had never experienced the feeling of fighting with a loved one, of seeing their tears and knowing that they were the cause. They didn’t know what it was like to know that no, love alone could not keep them afloat. Uruha missed the time when he too was so naive. It killed Uruha to know that when Aoi was gone it could be the end of them. Uruha was too old to be looking for new physical love; all emotional love could be transferred into making music of a different kind. Never would it be the real thing, a mere good substitute at best, but it was an outlet all the same.
A cigarette was poised to be smoked, lit but untouched, and slowly the flame was dimming. It hung off the balcony, the ashes falling to be lost in the wind. With a tap of his finger, Uruha flicked the cigarette over the edge and turned around, staring into the glass doors. In a way that was explainable only through telepathy, Aoi’s gaze drifted up to meet his. It didn’t surprise Uruha, the way they always seemed to be in sync with everything, from their thoughts to their feelings. He would miss having that other half to always keep him company. Turning back to the gloom of the day, a sound akin to a sigh floated out of his lips, mouth poised in a frown, unbeknownst to him.
Uruha wanted to look back, able to feel the burn of Aoi’s eyes in the back of his head, leaving burn marks down his neck, over his back and scarring his legs. The burn was intense, the emotions hot in his body in that moment to turn around, to run into Aoi’s arms and simply beg to give them one more chance. But he knew that moment had come and gone. This wasn’t their only option but it was the best solution.
Like a record stuck on repeat, Uruha couldn’t seem to bring himself to acknowledge that within a few hours, Aoi would be gone from their - now his - apartment. Uruha prayed for rain so if he cried it would be hidden; but the god or gods above were never quite so merciful and Uruha expected little. He breathed deep and quick, a contrast to his slow exhale, before he turned around to the glass door, now faced with Aoi’s back. It surprised him; perhaps Aoi hadn’t been watching him after all. How scary that they weren’t even apart yet and already Uruha was losing his grip on their olden ways. Lightly, Uruha tapped his knuckles on the glass door to grab Aoi’s attention.
With heavy eyes Aoi glanced up, tape poised to be taped over a box. He gave a nod, all he needed to tell Uruha he’d be there, before closing up the last box before his departure. He tapped his fingers against the cardboard, glancing around, almost tempted to unpack and put everything in their rightful place. He hadn’t the heart to take the photographs of him and Uruha with him; he’d left them hanging on the walls and the remainder standing upright. It hadn’t escaped him how Uruha had flipped portraits over and placed others against the glass beneath them. It hurt Aoi more than anything to know Uruha couldn’t stand to look at them when they had once been happy. But Aoi couldn’t blame him; he didn’t have the heart to look at them either.
Standing up, legs cramped, Aoi hobbled over to the glass door, smiling at the memory of how he’d once walked into it, doing something almost exactly the same he was now. The memory was a sad one now, for when he’d done it, Uruha had been smiling, laughing after he’d walked into it. Now there was nothing but a frown on Uruha’s usually content lips, a reminder that Aoi couldn’t kiss them anymore, not without it meaning something more significant than it was supposed to. He pulled the door open, now faced with none other than his love of eight years.
There was nothing but silence between them for a moment before Uruha reached out and touched his face gently, his fingertips skimming Aoi’s face, perhaps looking for tears or simply wanting to make sure he could remember where everything was. With both of them on opposite sides of the door, it was like they were separated in different worlds, wanting nothing more than to be close but stopped by reality. Often, logic gave way to reason, but reason could just as well cave to logic. Minds worked differently, Aoi realized, and for all the similarities between him and Uruha, they would never really be one.
Timidly, like he had on their first date, Aoi held out an arm to Uruha. When Uruha crossed the threshold and into him, Aoi wanted to hold on forever, to never let him go. There was so much he wanted, so many hopes placed in the body so close to his. Aoi wished he had the right words to comfort the one person who had come to mean everything to him. But as fate would have it, Aoi didn’t have to say anything.
“Just promise me this isn’t goodbye,” Uruha pleaded.
“Of course not,” Aoi soothed. Nothing could pry Uruha from Aoi for good, not the almighty ones above themselves. “You’ll see me at least once a week.”
Nothing, Uruha though, next to coming home to him every night. But now it was time to let go, time to let Aoi take a step back and let them both carry on in their lives. It was time for him to grow up into someone stronger than he was, if only for the moment. His arms from around Aoi’s body fell, his fingers lightly skimming those on Aoi’s in the process. Uruha recalled the first time that had happened, the way he’d blushed and looked away. Now he’d done it so many times he hardly thought about it, it seemed so natural.
“We’ll be okay,” Uruha reassured, sounding a bit too optimistic, a bit too cheery.
Aoi knew Uruha better than he knew himself, knew when words were forced and fake. He wanted to be able to kiss those lips one last time but, now, he was out of time. The moment was right and Aoi knew he had to take his leave while Uruha was accepting of it. There would be an inevitable depressive mood swing once he was gone but Aoi couldn’t be there to remedy Uruha anymore, not in their current situation. They needed to learn to adapt without each other, remember what it was like to have a life beyond just love alone.
“We’ll be okay,” Aoi confirmed, breaking his own rules to lean in and kiss Uruha one last time, encouragement to Uruha to never lose hope for the thing he’d so long ago lost faith in -
love.
--------
I haven't had any free time to write lately. I've missed it. This idea was originally based off the scene with them at the door, separated by the molding holding the glass doors together, if you understand what I mean.
If any typos seriously irk/bother you, feel free to point them out.
Chapter: Oneshot
Author: chinesetakeout
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha
Summary: He hadn’t the heart to take the photographs of him and Uruha with him; he’d left them hanging on the walls and the remainder standing upright. It hadn’t escaped him how Uruha had flipped portraits over and placed others against the glass beneath them. It hurt Aoi more than anything to know Uruha couldn’t stand to look at them when they had once been happy.
Rating: PG13
Genre: romance, angst
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: No.
Comments: My first story in over a month. Written for domenoworlater under 'break.'
Against his better judgement, Uruha stood outside, the chilly breeze and dark clouds indicating rain. But still the outside chill was preferable to the heartache Uruha knew would await him if he stepped through the sliding glass door that lay behind him, leading him into his shared apartment of four years. For inside, picture frames lay face down, the TV turned off and music on pause. The bed was unmade, the only bit of familiarity in the growing world of unfamiliarity for Uruha. There were boxes labeled ‘Aoi’ in big pencil letters, outlined in sharpie. There was even a person packing these named boxes, the person none other than Aoi himself.
Aoi called it a trial separation, as though they were married. Uruha supposed in a sense they were. They could finish each others sentences, name off their favorite foods. They could recite their first date and describe their first kiss (awkward, messy, but loving all the same). They knew each others past by heart, had grown to love both their families and see them as one. But what neither could name, what neither could pinpoint, was when all of this knowledge and all of their love hadn’t been enough to support them, to support their relationship.
It was easy for people to say love made the world go round, that all someone needed was love to keep a relationship stable. Often times, Uruha found this came from the people who had never experienced the feeling of fighting with a loved one, of seeing their tears and knowing that they were the cause. They didn’t know what it was like to know that no, love alone could not keep them afloat. Uruha missed the time when he too was so naive. It killed Uruha to know that when Aoi was gone it could be the end of them. Uruha was too old to be looking for new physical love; all emotional love could be transferred into making music of a different kind. Never would it be the real thing, a mere good substitute at best, but it was an outlet all the same.
A cigarette was poised to be smoked, lit but untouched, and slowly the flame was dimming. It hung off the balcony, the ashes falling to be lost in the wind. With a tap of his finger, Uruha flicked the cigarette over the edge and turned around, staring into the glass doors. In a way that was explainable only through telepathy, Aoi’s gaze drifted up to meet his. It didn’t surprise Uruha, the way they always seemed to be in sync with everything, from their thoughts to their feelings. He would miss having that other half to always keep him company. Turning back to the gloom of the day, a sound akin to a sigh floated out of his lips, mouth poised in a frown, unbeknownst to him.
Uruha wanted to look back, able to feel the burn of Aoi’s eyes in the back of his head, leaving burn marks down his neck, over his back and scarring his legs. The burn was intense, the emotions hot in his body in that moment to turn around, to run into Aoi’s arms and simply beg to give them one more chance. But he knew that moment had come and gone. This wasn’t their only option but it was the best solution.
Like a record stuck on repeat, Uruha couldn’t seem to bring himself to acknowledge that within a few hours, Aoi would be gone from their - now his - apartment. Uruha prayed for rain so if he cried it would be hidden; but the god or gods above were never quite so merciful and Uruha expected little. He breathed deep and quick, a contrast to his slow exhale, before he turned around to the glass door, now faced with Aoi’s back. It surprised him; perhaps Aoi hadn’t been watching him after all. How scary that they weren’t even apart yet and already Uruha was losing his grip on their olden ways. Lightly, Uruha tapped his knuckles on the glass door to grab Aoi’s attention.
With heavy eyes Aoi glanced up, tape poised to be taped over a box. He gave a nod, all he needed to tell Uruha he’d be there, before closing up the last box before his departure. He tapped his fingers against the cardboard, glancing around, almost tempted to unpack and put everything in their rightful place. He hadn’t the heart to take the photographs of him and Uruha with him; he’d left them hanging on the walls and the remainder standing upright. It hadn’t escaped him how Uruha had flipped portraits over and placed others against the glass beneath them. It hurt Aoi more than anything to know Uruha couldn’t stand to look at them when they had once been happy. But Aoi couldn’t blame him; he didn’t have the heart to look at them either.
Standing up, legs cramped, Aoi hobbled over to the glass door, smiling at the memory of how he’d once walked into it, doing something almost exactly the same he was now. The memory was a sad one now, for when he’d done it, Uruha had been smiling, laughing after he’d walked into it. Now there was nothing but a frown on Uruha’s usually content lips, a reminder that Aoi couldn’t kiss them anymore, not without it meaning something more significant than it was supposed to. He pulled the door open, now faced with none other than his love of eight years.
There was nothing but silence between them for a moment before Uruha reached out and touched his face gently, his fingertips skimming Aoi’s face, perhaps looking for tears or simply wanting to make sure he could remember where everything was. With both of them on opposite sides of the door, it was like they were separated in different worlds, wanting nothing more than to be close but stopped by reality. Often, logic gave way to reason, but reason could just as well cave to logic. Minds worked differently, Aoi realized, and for all the similarities between him and Uruha, they would never really be one.
Timidly, like he had on their first date, Aoi held out an arm to Uruha. When Uruha crossed the threshold and into him, Aoi wanted to hold on forever, to never let him go. There was so much he wanted, so many hopes placed in the body so close to his. Aoi wished he had the right words to comfort the one person who had come to mean everything to him. But as fate would have it, Aoi didn’t have to say anything.
“Just promise me this isn’t goodbye,” Uruha pleaded.
“Of course not,” Aoi soothed. Nothing could pry Uruha from Aoi for good, not the almighty ones above themselves. “You’ll see me at least once a week.”
Nothing, Uruha though, next to coming home to him every night. But now it was time to let go, time to let Aoi take a step back and let them both carry on in their lives. It was time for him to grow up into someone stronger than he was, if only for the moment. His arms from around Aoi’s body fell, his fingers lightly skimming those on Aoi’s in the process. Uruha recalled the first time that had happened, the way he’d blushed and looked away. Now he’d done it so many times he hardly thought about it, it seemed so natural.
“We’ll be okay,” Uruha reassured, sounding a bit too optimistic, a bit too cheery.
Aoi knew Uruha better than he knew himself, knew when words were forced and fake. He wanted to be able to kiss those lips one last time but, now, he was out of time. The moment was right and Aoi knew he had to take his leave while Uruha was accepting of it. There would be an inevitable depressive mood swing once he was gone but Aoi couldn’t be there to remedy Uruha anymore, not in their current situation. They needed to learn to adapt without each other, remember what it was like to have a life beyond just love alone.
“We’ll be okay,” Aoi confirmed, breaking his own rules to lean in and kiss Uruha one last time, encouragement to Uruha to never lose hope for the thing he’d so long ago lost faith in -
love.
--------
I haven't had any free time to write lately. I've missed it. This idea was originally based off the scene with them at the door, separated by the molding holding the glass doors together, if you understand what I mean.
If any typos seriously irk/bother you, feel free to point them out.