'Saint Wilde' - [Aoi] 1/1
Title: Saint Wilde
Description: In which Aoi throws both caution and himself to the wind.
Pairing/Character(s): Aoi-centric, hinted onesided Aoi/Uruha
Genre: Introspective, drama
Notes: This micro-drabble flew out of my head last night whilst studying for finals. I left it and continued to study, intending to return and write more -- but when I came back, I realized it was already finished.
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And he lets them touch him -- dozens of fingers sinking into his skin like Uruha never would. And in between the moment of leaping and fate and contact, Aoi is suspended in silence; the drums above his head, chords in his irises and arms spread wide, wide. He closes his eyes, breath like broken constellations, and can hear Uruha's breath sticking in his throat, A-string warbling in shock as a lead is suddenly abandoned by its rhythm.
And Ruki's voice catches.
And Reita pauses for the briefest of milliseconds to gape.
And Kai keeps drumming --
And Aoi is in the air, soaring into hands and screams, and his clothes are going to get torn and he's going to lose that bracelet, but fuck he needs contact. Flesh to flesh. Even if it's grabbing, seizing, pulling -- because he tried-tried-tried to get those caresses, those beautiful pockets of time where a hand nudges at his side or slides along his cheek, those sweet touches that aren't made of copper or fiberglass.
And he's tired of waiting.
.:.:.:.:.
A/N: :)
Description: In which Aoi throws both caution and himself to the wind.
Pairing/Character(s): Aoi-centric, hinted onesided Aoi/Uruha
Genre: Introspective, drama
Notes: This micro-drabble flew out of my head last night whilst studying for finals. I left it and continued to study, intending to return and write more -- but when I came back, I realized it was already finished.
And he lets them touch him -- dozens of fingers sinking into his skin like Uruha never would. And in between the moment of leaping and fate and contact, Aoi is suspended in silence; the drums above his head, chords in his irises and arms spread wide, wide. He closes his eyes, breath like broken constellations, and can hear Uruha's breath sticking in his throat, A-string warbling in shock as a lead is suddenly abandoned by its rhythm.
And Ruki's voice catches.
And Reita pauses for the briefest of milliseconds to gape.
And Kai keeps drumming --
And Aoi is in the air, soaring into hands and screams, and his clothes are going to get torn and he's going to lose that bracelet, but fuck he needs contact. Flesh to flesh. Even if it's grabbing, seizing, pulling -- because he tried-tried-tried to get those caresses, those beautiful pockets of time where a hand nudges at his side or slides along his cheek, those sweet touches that aren't made of copper or fiberglass.
And he's tired of waiting.
.:.:.:.:.
A/N: :)