fic: of silence
Title: Of Silence
Pairing: Ugetsu/Gokudera, implied 8059, g/ugetsu
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Rating: NC-17 (for cursing)
Disclaimer: Not mine
Note: Some sort of companion to this hotfuckingsexy fic, written by Lamp.
Summary: Gokudera doesn’t pull away because he simply doesn’t want to.
For lampazo_libre , who inspires me \o/
“You’re at the wrong house.” Gokudera says.
Ugestu stands in the middle of the room, wearing a sunny smile on his face and eyes that flicker in amusement, “No, I chose to come here.”
Gokudera grunts under his breath and stands up and walks towards his bed. It’s disturbing, Gokudera thinks, and a little creepy but there’s a man who’s been dead for years, decades even; and he is now in his room, materialized out of nowhere, looking like he belongs there more than Gokudera does, even with the ridiculous hat of his; “Why?” he says and then sits at the edge of the bed, crossing his legs.
“Can I sit here?” Ugetsu asks instead, gesturing the spot next to him and sits down before Gokudera can say anything in reply. His long fingers play with the hem of his sleeves; he is still smiling, but speaks of nothing at all.
“Stop smiling-” he almost said ‘idiot’ “-you creep me out.”
Ugetsu laughs a distinctly familiar laugh in Gokudera’s ears, “Because I’m a ghost?”
“Because you are here,” a pause. “And because-”
“Because I’m so much like him?”
“That’s not true.” Gokudera says, maybe a little too quickly, or maybe not quickly enough. He impulsively reaches for his cigarette from the small table next to his bed and lights a stick. The digital clock on the table beeps twice and they both watch the tendrils of smoke dissolve into the air in silence.
“I was human once,” Ugetsu says finally, and Gokudera muses of the irony in the way his smile never left his face when there’s melancholy heavy in his voice, “I remember breathing and living a life. I think I’ve missed it.”
“But you're still here. In this world I mean.”
“What I am now is a nonexistence, nothing in particular.”
“What does it feel like?” Because Gokudera had to ask. And he notices how Ugetsu’s fingers twitch slightly on his lap and when he looks up, their eyes lock and for one senselessness moment, only a fraction, Gokudera thinks how strikingly captivating is the man in front of him.
Gokudera allows himself a small sigh.
“It feels like-” Ugetsu says, randomly grasping for words, the corner of his lips curls into a half-smile and Gokudera pretends not to see the resemblance in that smile; “It feels like being trapped in a dark room with no walls. You lost the sense of time, you lost the sense of feeling and it’s inevitable this nothingness. In death everything that was once matters to you, all the material things, fears, passions and comforts- do not matter anymore. You’re left with memories- images, scraps of feeling, remnants of the past and there is emptiness. There is always emptiness.” Ugetsu continues and then he chuckles lightly, “You see, I’m not good in this, I never was and sometimes I ahh- I think G could’ve explained it better.”
“You’d have regrets.” Gokudera says, hardly a question. He blows the smoke leisurely and drops the ashes on the carpeted floor.
“I have regrets,” Ugetsu admits, “And now I feel like watching history repeating itself. You and him.”
“Is that why you are here?”
“No.” And there's laughter in his voice.
“Why you are here then?”
“I came to see you.”
With those words hanging in the air, they sit looking at each other for a while. The clock beeps again and Gokudera stubs the remaining of his cigarette on the table, breathing in and breathing out, just barely, while Ugetsu isn’t breathing at all.
“Can I,” Ugetsu asks suddenly, breaking the silence, “Can I touch you?”
There’s a sharp intake of breath and Gokudera finds himself saying, “I’m not G.”
“I understand.” Ugetsu replies, but there is something sad about the way he says it.
And Ugetsu, Gokudera thinks, is not Yamamoto but he says nothing at all. He says nothing as Ugetsu gently cups his face and he lets Ugetsu draw him closer and he thinks about those pain in the smile, he thinks this is wrong, this is sofuckingwrong and he tells himself it isn’t supposed to be like this and he couldn’t help but to wonder if he’s selfish enough to pretend it is someone else who’s been holding him, but still he does not pull away.
Gokudera doesn’t pull away because he simply doesn’t want to.
And Gokudera thinks of Yamamoto’s heat when he was standing a little too near, a little too close for comfort, those rapid heartbeats pounding against his chest and Yamamoto’s wide eyes, eager and waiting and alive-
Gokudera stops thinking.
“You’re warm,” Ugetsu mumbles above him, tracing Gokudera’s nose with a finger, “And I want to touch you more,” he adds softly. His fingers already sneak their way down Gokudera’s neck and Gokudera decides to fuck it all and then close the remaining centimeters left between them.
Gokudera is utterly fucked up.
-
Pairing: Ugetsu/Gokudera, implied 8059, g/ugetsu
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Rating: NC-17 (for cursing)
Disclaimer: Not mine
Note: Some sort of companion to this hotfuckingsexy fic, written by Lamp.
Summary: Gokudera doesn’t pull away because he simply doesn’t want to.
For lampazo_libre , who inspires me \o/
“You’re at the wrong house.” Gokudera says.
Ugestu stands in the middle of the room, wearing a sunny smile on his face and eyes that flicker in amusement, “No, I chose to come here.”
Gokudera grunts under his breath and stands up and walks towards his bed. It’s disturbing, Gokudera thinks, and a little creepy but there’s a man who’s been dead for years, decades even; and he is now in his room, materialized out of nowhere, looking like he belongs there more than Gokudera does, even with the ridiculous hat of his; “Why?” he says and then sits at the edge of the bed, crossing his legs.
“Can I sit here?” Ugetsu asks instead, gesturing the spot next to him and sits down before Gokudera can say anything in reply. His long fingers play with the hem of his sleeves; he is still smiling, but speaks of nothing at all.
“Stop smiling-” he almost said ‘idiot’ “-you creep me out.”
Ugetsu laughs a distinctly familiar laugh in Gokudera’s ears, “Because I’m a ghost?”
“Because you are here,” a pause. “And because-”
“Because I’m so much like him?”
“That’s not true.” Gokudera says, maybe a little too quickly, or maybe not quickly enough. He impulsively reaches for his cigarette from the small table next to his bed and lights a stick. The digital clock on the table beeps twice and they both watch the tendrils of smoke dissolve into the air in silence.
“I was human once,” Ugetsu says finally, and Gokudera muses of the irony in the way his smile never left his face when there’s melancholy heavy in his voice, “I remember breathing and living a life. I think I’ve missed it.”
“But you're still here. In this world I mean.”
“What I am now is a nonexistence, nothing in particular.”
“What does it feel like?” Because Gokudera had to ask. And he notices how Ugetsu’s fingers twitch slightly on his lap and when he looks up, their eyes lock and for one senselessness moment, only a fraction, Gokudera thinks how strikingly captivating is the man in front of him.
Gokudera allows himself a small sigh.
“It feels like-” Ugetsu says, randomly grasping for words, the corner of his lips curls into a half-smile and Gokudera pretends not to see the resemblance in that smile; “It feels like being trapped in a dark room with no walls. You lost the sense of time, you lost the sense of feeling and it’s inevitable this nothingness. In death everything that was once matters to you, all the material things, fears, passions and comforts- do not matter anymore. You’re left with memories- images, scraps of feeling, remnants of the past and there is emptiness. There is always emptiness.” Ugetsu continues and then he chuckles lightly, “You see, I’m not good in this, I never was and sometimes I ahh- I think G could’ve explained it better.”
“You’d have regrets.” Gokudera says, hardly a question. He blows the smoke leisurely and drops the ashes on the carpeted floor.
“I have regrets,” Ugetsu admits, “And now I feel like watching history repeating itself. You and him.”
“Is that why you are here?”
“No.” And there's laughter in his voice.
“Why you are here then?”
“I came to see you.”
With those words hanging in the air, they sit looking at each other for a while. The clock beeps again and Gokudera stubs the remaining of his cigarette on the table, breathing in and breathing out, just barely, while Ugetsu isn’t breathing at all.
“Can I,” Ugetsu asks suddenly, breaking the silence, “Can I touch you?”
There’s a sharp intake of breath and Gokudera finds himself saying, “I’m not G.”
“I understand.” Ugetsu replies, but there is something sad about the way he says it.
And Ugetsu, Gokudera thinks, is not Yamamoto but he says nothing at all. He says nothing as Ugetsu gently cups his face and he lets Ugetsu draw him closer and he thinks about those pain in the smile, he thinks this is wrong, this is sofuckingwrong and he tells himself it isn’t supposed to be like this and he couldn’t help but to wonder if he’s selfish enough to pretend it is someone else who’s been holding him, but still he does not pull away.
Gokudera doesn’t pull away because he simply doesn’t want to.
And Gokudera thinks of Yamamoto’s heat when he was standing a little too near, a little too close for comfort, those rapid heartbeats pounding against his chest and Yamamoto’s wide eyes, eager and waiting and alive-
Gokudera stops thinking.
“You’re warm,” Ugetsu mumbles above him, tracing Gokudera’s nose with a finger, “And I want to touch you more,” he adds softly. His fingers already sneak their way down Gokudera’s neck and Gokudera decides to fuck it all and then close the remaining centimeters left between them.
Gokudera is utterly fucked up.
-