Let The Music Take You Home || Reita/Ruki - the GazettE || Chapter One || PG-13
Title: Let The Music Take You Home
Author: cocosmileyboo
Pairing: Ruki/Reita
Fandom: the GazettE
Rating: PG-13 (subject to change)
Summary: Ruki is a young man living on the streets of a large city who is no stranger to hardship, but manages to put on a smile for the world. Reita is a well-off writer with demons of his own and little hope for the future. A mutual acquaintance brings them together by "hiring" Ruki to be Reita's assistant. What happens when the lines are blurred and everything seemingly falls into place, only to fall apart again?
Disclaimer: I do not own the members of the GazettE, just the plot. I make no money off of this. I don't claim any of this to be truthful.
Content Warning: Male/Male Relationships, Angst, Fluff, Swearing, etc.
Notes: Written for NaNoWriMo. Be gentle with me, I haven't written anything in quite some time. Also- this is a pretty short chapter. I'll get around to posting more later. And I don't plan, as of this second, to advertise this story anywhere. That decision is subject to change, though.
Song[s]: "Weak Fantasy" by Nightwish.
"Seems like it's always raining," Matsumoto Takanori said quietly to himself as he stepped into the in line at the soup kitchen on Othello Avenue South. And the dark-haired young man was half right, at least: it did rain a lot in their area. It was to be expected, living so close to the ocean, but at least the air pollution was at a minimum. Takanori breathed in the damp air and tucked the midnight locks of hair that had fallen over his face behind his ear. It was a brisk autumn afternoon, Takanori's favorite kind of day, not too hot and not too cold. Takanori smiled at the towering blonde man behind the counter. "Tuna casserole again, huh, Kouyou?" Ruki teased.
"Don't act like you don't like it," Kouyou said with a smile, "I know it's your favorite, Takanori."
"I prefer Ruki, remember?" Ruki replied, a grin plastered on his face.
"Ruki, then," Kouyou agreed. "You're always so cheerful, Ruki, how do you manage it?"
"Just a great day to be alive," Ruki said as he walked away with his food.
Ruki found a spot on the very edge of the covered patio to sit and enjoy his hot meal of the day. One of the first things people tended to find out about Ruki is that he was very upbeat and perky and almost never in a bad mood. The next thing most people instantly noticed was that he was homeless. Ruki, then 24 years old, had been on the streets since he turned 18. Everyone has a history, and Ruki is no exception. At 18, Ruki walked out on his only living family member; his father. As far as Ruki was concerned, the streets were a haven of opportunity and freedom.
"Ruki!" Kouyou wandered over, a cigarette in his hand. "How's the food today?"
"Great, as always," Ruki said, cracking another smile. "You know those will kill you, right, Kouyou?"
"Cancer sticks," Kouyou nodded. "And you can call me Uruha, if you want. It's what my friends call me."
"Uruha," Ruki repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. "I like that, it suits you."
"So I'm seriously asking, how do you stay so upbeat? Living on the streets can't be easy."
"It's not easy," Ruki admitted, "but it is better than some of the alternatives. Anyway, I guess I'm just a naturally optimistic person: glass half full and all that jazz."
"That's a good philosophy. Do you find ways to make at least a little bit of money?"
"I do whatever comes my way," Ruki said, "odd jobs, playing my guitar in the park for spare change. Just little things to get the odds and ends that I need throughout the weeks."
"Well, I might have a job for you that could be slightly more permanent. How'd you feel about being a writer's assistant?"
"I'm not sure if I'd be able to keep up a professional enough appearance," Ruki's near constant smile turned into an uncertain frown. A real job? Since moving out of his father's house to live on the streets, Ruki never even considered finding a consistent line of work. What if he wasn't good enough for something like that? He had no idea. "It's not exactly easy to find places to shower or to be able to afford the proper clothes," Ruki continued. "And I'm not sure I could do a proper job, having no experience and all."
"That's not a problem," Uruha replied. "You can shower at my house if you need to and I'd be willing to buy you clothes and take it out of your first payment, and you could even leave them at my house for safekeeping. I'm also more than willing to let you use my shower. I just have a friend who really needs the help."
"If you're sure you can help me out, I won't refuse you," Ruki said, almost shyly. "But are you sure I won't be putting you out?"
"Of course not, Ruki, I'm only too happy to help. We know each other pretty well, by now, don't you think? I'd say we're pretty good friends."
Ruki's hesitant look blossomed into a smile and he nodded in agreement, "if you're sure, my friend, I'd be happy that we can help each other out."
"That's great!" Uruha exclaimed. "I have to warn you, though... while my friend really needs the help, he doesn't know he needs it and his demeanor is... rather 'tight-fisted,' at the moment. I hope that fact doesn't sway you. It could be a very trying job."
"I'm willing to give it a shot," Ruki said seriously. "I'm almost sure I'm up for the challenge."
"Thanks, Ruki," Uruha said with relief. He was worried that Ruki wouldn't be willing to take on such a task. "How about we go grab you some professional clothes after I help clean up the kitchen? Can you wait around or come back?"
"I'll be here," Ruki said with a grin. "Thanks for this, Uruha, I really appreciate it."
"Anytime, friend. And try not to worry about job performance: I have a feeling you'll be a natural"
Uruha snubbed out his cigarette using one of the metal support poles for the gazebo and wandered back toward the kitchen.
"I hope you're right," Ruki said softly to the retreating figure of his friend.
Author: cocosmileyboo
Pairing: Ruki/Reita
Fandom: the GazettE
Rating: PG-13 (subject to change)
Summary: Ruki is a young man living on the streets of a large city who is no stranger to hardship, but manages to put on a smile for the world. Reita is a well-off writer with demons of his own and little hope for the future. A mutual acquaintance brings them together by "hiring" Ruki to be Reita's assistant. What happens when the lines are blurred and everything seemingly falls into place, only to fall apart again?
Disclaimer: I do not own the members of the GazettE, just the plot. I make no money off of this. I don't claim any of this to be truthful.
Content Warning: Male/Male Relationships, Angst, Fluff, Swearing, etc.
Notes: Written for NaNoWriMo. Be gentle with me, I haven't written anything in quite some time. Also- this is a pretty short chapter. I'll get around to posting more later. And I don't plan, as of this second, to advertise this story anywhere. That decision is subject to change, though.
Song[s]: "Weak Fantasy" by Nightwish.
"Seems like it's always raining," Matsumoto Takanori said quietly to himself as he stepped into the in line at the soup kitchen on Othello Avenue South. And the dark-haired young man was half right, at least: it did rain a lot in their area. It was to be expected, living so close to the ocean, but at least the air pollution was at a minimum. Takanori breathed in the damp air and tucked the midnight locks of hair that had fallen over his face behind his ear. It was a brisk autumn afternoon, Takanori's favorite kind of day, not too hot and not too cold. Takanori smiled at the towering blonde man behind the counter. "Tuna casserole again, huh, Kouyou?" Ruki teased.
"Don't act like you don't like it," Kouyou said with a smile, "I know it's your favorite, Takanori."
"I prefer Ruki, remember?" Ruki replied, a grin plastered on his face.
"Ruki, then," Kouyou agreed. "You're always so cheerful, Ruki, how do you manage it?"
"Just a great day to be alive," Ruki said as he walked away with his food.
Ruki found a spot on the very edge of the covered patio to sit and enjoy his hot meal of the day. One of the first things people tended to find out about Ruki is that he was very upbeat and perky and almost never in a bad mood. The next thing most people instantly noticed was that he was homeless. Ruki, then 24 years old, had been on the streets since he turned 18. Everyone has a history, and Ruki is no exception. At 18, Ruki walked out on his only living family member; his father. As far as Ruki was concerned, the streets were a haven of opportunity and freedom.
"Ruki!" Kouyou wandered over, a cigarette in his hand. "How's the food today?"
"Great, as always," Ruki said, cracking another smile. "You know those will kill you, right, Kouyou?"
"Cancer sticks," Kouyou nodded. "And you can call me Uruha, if you want. It's what my friends call me."
"Uruha," Ruki repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. "I like that, it suits you."
"So I'm seriously asking, how do you stay so upbeat? Living on the streets can't be easy."
"It's not easy," Ruki admitted, "but it is better than some of the alternatives. Anyway, I guess I'm just a naturally optimistic person: glass half full and all that jazz."
"That's a good philosophy. Do you find ways to make at least a little bit of money?"
"I do whatever comes my way," Ruki said, "odd jobs, playing my guitar in the park for spare change. Just little things to get the odds and ends that I need throughout the weeks."
"Well, I might have a job for you that could be slightly more permanent. How'd you feel about being a writer's assistant?"
"I'm not sure if I'd be able to keep up a professional enough appearance," Ruki's near constant smile turned into an uncertain frown. A real job? Since moving out of his father's house to live on the streets, Ruki never even considered finding a consistent line of work. What if he wasn't good enough for something like that? He had no idea. "It's not exactly easy to find places to shower or to be able to afford the proper clothes," Ruki continued. "And I'm not sure I could do a proper job, having no experience and all."
"That's not a problem," Uruha replied. "You can shower at my house if you need to and I'd be willing to buy you clothes and take it out of your first payment, and you could even leave them at my house for safekeeping. I'm also more than willing to let you use my shower. I just have a friend who really needs the help."
"If you're sure you can help me out, I won't refuse you," Ruki said, almost shyly. "But are you sure I won't be putting you out?"
"Of course not, Ruki, I'm only too happy to help. We know each other pretty well, by now, don't you think? I'd say we're pretty good friends."
Ruki's hesitant look blossomed into a smile and he nodded in agreement, "if you're sure, my friend, I'd be happy that we can help each other out."
"That's great!" Uruha exclaimed. "I have to warn you, though... while my friend really needs the help, he doesn't know he needs it and his demeanor is... rather 'tight-fisted,' at the moment. I hope that fact doesn't sway you. It could be a very trying job."
"I'm willing to give it a shot," Ruki said seriously. "I'm almost sure I'm up for the challenge."
"Thanks, Ruki," Uruha said with relief. He was worried that Ruki wouldn't be willing to take on such a task. "How about we go grab you some professional clothes after I help clean up the kitchen? Can you wait around or come back?"
"I'll be here," Ruki said with a grin. "Thanks for this, Uruha, I really appreciate it."
"Anytime, friend. And try not to worry about job performance: I have a feeling you'll be a natural"
Uruha snubbed out his cigarette using one of the metal support poles for the gazebo and wandered back toward the kitchen.
"I hope you're right," Ruki said softly to the retreating figure of his friend.