[fic] durarara - if i may be
Title: If I may be
Fandom: Durarara
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,181
Characters/Pairing: Kida/Mikado
Summary: Because what could be hurts him more than what ever was.
Written: post season 1
Author's Note: jesus christ i am never looking at drrrkink at 3 am ever again. prompt was Kida -> Mikado. Heartbreakingly unrequited. and apparently i cannot fucking resist. someone teach me what self control is.
He’s been in this city for a long time. He’s grown up here, a child of reinforced steel and hard smiles made of all teeth-he’s grown up here for so long that sometimes it’s hard to remember the feel of muted sunlight on his skin, the warmth of a light breeze carrying softly through the branches of trees that he can hardly picture. There must have been rice paddies lining the sides of paths that he must have wandered once in his life, slippery tadpoles that wiggled out from between his fingers, the chime of laughter in his ear-because he can remember all of these things distantly between the indistinct wash of violence and pain that dominate his memories now.
He remembers being a kid. He remembers the weight of a crowbar in his hands, the weight of words too big for him on his tongue, remembers his heady fascination with power.
He remembers being thirteen with a hundred men at his fingertips. He remembers being thirteen and gathering up the men who didn’t fit, the boys who were just looking for someplace to belong and he remembers being so utterly lonely that he had been drawn into this world, remembers being young and eager and stupid.
It was all he ever wanted at one point in his life-just this ability to call out a suggestion and have men falling over themselves to obey, all of these adolescent desires of attention. He had wanted it so much that he had blindly handed his life over to a man who found nothing but amusement in the chaos around him.
Now-
Now he’s not so sure.
______
There is sunlight filtering in through the blinds, slanting across the wall in dim stripes. It’s sundown when Kida opens his eyes and touches a shaking hand to the bandage on his forehead and draws in a breath that makes his chest hurt. The light makes his eyes hurt, but he keeps them open anyways because, because-
Mikado is sitting in the armchair at the end of his bed and there is a perfect square of sunlight highlighting the curve of his cheek, sweeping down low across his jawline and Kida thinks that he can lay here forever and just contemplate this face. His eyes are closed, lashes against his cheek and he looks tired, so fucking tired even in sleep. Kida blinks slowly and wonders how long he’s been there, sitting there, waiting for him to wake up.
He wants to call out Mikado’s name, he wants to say nothing at all. He wants to wake the boy up, tell him to go home-he wants to look at him forever, tell him to stay. Kida wants-he wants so many things that it’s a fucking miracle he can do anything at all.
Kida imagines saying Mikado’s name, imagines Mikado waking up, imagines concerned eyes, imagines the way that Mikado wouldn’t say anything at all but instead how he might slowly get up and smile a little hesitantly and how he might come stand next to Kida’s bed and look down at him and say I’m glad you’re okay, Masaomi and there would be a silence and then-
Kida imagines the way that Mikado might put his hand on his cheek, how his eyebrows would furrow and how his voice might break a little and the way that he might lean down and the way he might whisper a little brokenly Masaomi-like he was fucking scared, the way that Kida would be if anything ever happened to Mikado-and the way that Kida might huff a little laugh back but his eyes would be open wide and raw and Mikado would be able to read him, all of him and Kida, Kida imagines the way that Mikado-
-might close that distance between the two of them, and the barest brush of lips and it’s nothing at all like what it could be but it’s everything that Kida could ever want and-
Slow blink and the illusion is gone. Mikado is still sleeping with that perfect square of sunlight on his cheek and Kida swallows and he has to look away because what could be hurts him more than what ever was.
______
Sometimes Mikado’s smile reminds him of rain splashing into a pond, the vague shapes of koi swimming underneath the surface. It reminds him of summers spent in rivers, the feel of sun on the back of his neck, eating ice cream.
It reminds him of a time before he split himself in two, before he was withdrawing into himself into cheery extrovertism, reminds him of a time when he used to be young and whole and sometimes it-
Makes him feel normal.
______
When he closes his eyes, he dreams of Mikado.
He dreams that they are walking side by side. He bumps shoulders with Mikado every once in a while but they aren’t touching otherwise. They are just walking forward, in a place that has no features, with no destination in mind.
But in this dream, all he has to do is look at Mikado and he knows.
He knows that they-
(are together)
-have kissed, though he can’t remember how, he knows that he has trailed fingertips lightly up Mikado’s side, watched the other boy shiver with anticipation, and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the dip of his spine. He knows that Mikado has licked his way into Kida’s mouth, knows that they have done it enough times that Mikado is smiling and confident and-
When he closes his eyes he dreams of Mikado and a promise and forever and when he wakes up:
Nothing has changed.
______
Kida lovehates Anri.
He sees the way that Mikado looks at her. He hears the way that Mikado stutters past his denials and he knows, he knows.
(he hasn’t a chance, he knows, can’t hold a flame to the blaze that Anri’s already using to conquer Mikado’s heart and Kida will just have to learn how to back down before he burns out bright.
it’s better this way, because he also remembers:
failures, heartaches, failure to save a girl he thought he loved, the thud of metal against flesh, the crack of a crowbar against skull, blood on his hands, blood on his face, and he’s thirteen and a child king and he hasn’t learned anything about life and he’s stupid and naïve and he will never ever
be worthy)
It will have to be enough to trust her.
______
When Saki asks him to run away with her, he is thinking of his old childhood home and a black haired boy sitting against a wall. He is smiling widely and holding a toy car out towards Kida. It is sunset and they are playing in the warm square of sunlight that angles in through the window.
He is thinking of tadpoles in rice paddies and a boy sitting at the foot of his hospital bed and he is thinking:
Perhaps this is for the best.
And he says yes.
Fandom: Durarara
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,181
Characters/Pairing: Kida/Mikado
Summary: Because what could be hurts him more than what ever was.
Written: post season 1
Author's Note: jesus christ i am never looking at drrrkink at 3 am ever again. prompt was Kida -> Mikado. Heartbreakingly unrequited. and apparently i cannot fucking resist. someone teach me what self control is.
He’s been in this city for a long time. He’s grown up here, a child of reinforced steel and hard smiles made of all teeth-he’s grown up here for so long that sometimes it’s hard to remember the feel of muted sunlight on his skin, the warmth of a light breeze carrying softly through the branches of trees that he can hardly picture. There must have been rice paddies lining the sides of paths that he must have wandered once in his life, slippery tadpoles that wiggled out from between his fingers, the chime of laughter in his ear-because he can remember all of these things distantly between the indistinct wash of violence and pain that dominate his memories now.
He remembers being a kid. He remembers the weight of a crowbar in his hands, the weight of words too big for him on his tongue, remembers his heady fascination with power.
He remembers being thirteen with a hundred men at his fingertips. He remembers being thirteen and gathering up the men who didn’t fit, the boys who were just looking for someplace to belong and he remembers being so utterly lonely that he had been drawn into this world, remembers being young and eager and stupid.
It was all he ever wanted at one point in his life-just this ability to call out a suggestion and have men falling over themselves to obey, all of these adolescent desires of attention. He had wanted it so much that he had blindly handed his life over to a man who found nothing but amusement in the chaos around him.
Now-
Now he’s not so sure.
______
There is sunlight filtering in through the blinds, slanting across the wall in dim stripes. It’s sundown when Kida opens his eyes and touches a shaking hand to the bandage on his forehead and draws in a breath that makes his chest hurt. The light makes his eyes hurt, but he keeps them open anyways because, because-
Mikado is sitting in the armchair at the end of his bed and there is a perfect square of sunlight highlighting the curve of his cheek, sweeping down low across his jawline and Kida thinks that he can lay here forever and just contemplate this face. His eyes are closed, lashes against his cheek and he looks tired, so fucking tired even in sleep. Kida blinks slowly and wonders how long he’s been there, sitting there, waiting for him to wake up.
He wants to call out Mikado’s name, he wants to say nothing at all. He wants to wake the boy up, tell him to go home-he wants to look at him forever, tell him to stay. Kida wants-he wants so many things that it’s a fucking miracle he can do anything at all.
Kida imagines saying Mikado’s name, imagines Mikado waking up, imagines concerned eyes, imagines the way that Mikado wouldn’t say anything at all but instead how he might slowly get up and smile a little hesitantly and how he might come stand next to Kida’s bed and look down at him and say I’m glad you’re okay, Masaomi and there would be a silence and then-
Kida imagines the way that Mikado might put his hand on his cheek, how his eyebrows would furrow and how his voice might break a little and the way that he might lean down and the way he might whisper a little brokenly Masaomi-like he was fucking scared, the way that Kida would be if anything ever happened to Mikado-and the way that Kida might huff a little laugh back but his eyes would be open wide and raw and Mikado would be able to read him, all of him and Kida, Kida imagines the way that Mikado-
-might close that distance between the two of them, and the barest brush of lips and it’s nothing at all like what it could be but it’s everything that Kida could ever want and-
Slow blink and the illusion is gone. Mikado is still sleeping with that perfect square of sunlight on his cheek and Kida swallows and he has to look away because what could be hurts him more than what ever was.
______
Sometimes Mikado’s smile reminds him of rain splashing into a pond, the vague shapes of koi swimming underneath the surface. It reminds him of summers spent in rivers, the feel of sun on the back of his neck, eating ice cream.
It reminds him of a time before he split himself in two, before he was withdrawing into himself into cheery extrovertism, reminds him of a time when he used to be young and whole and sometimes it-
Makes him feel normal.
______
When he closes his eyes, he dreams of Mikado.
He dreams that they are walking side by side. He bumps shoulders with Mikado every once in a while but they aren’t touching otherwise. They are just walking forward, in a place that has no features, with no destination in mind.
But in this dream, all he has to do is look at Mikado and he knows.
He knows that they-
(are together)
-have kissed, though he can’t remember how, he knows that he has trailed fingertips lightly up Mikado’s side, watched the other boy shiver with anticipation, and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the dip of his spine. He knows that Mikado has licked his way into Kida’s mouth, knows that they have done it enough times that Mikado is smiling and confident and-
When he closes his eyes he dreams of Mikado and a promise and forever and when he wakes up:
Nothing has changed.
______
Kida lovehates Anri.
He sees the way that Mikado looks at her. He hears the way that Mikado stutters past his denials and he knows, he knows.
(he hasn’t a chance, he knows, can’t hold a flame to the blaze that Anri’s already using to conquer Mikado’s heart and Kida will just have to learn how to back down before he burns out bright.
it’s better this way, because he also remembers:
failures, heartaches, failure to save a girl he thought he loved, the thud of metal against flesh, the crack of a crowbar against skull, blood on his hands, blood on his face, and he’s thirteen and a child king and he hasn’t learned anything about life and he’s stupid and naïve and he will never ever
be worthy)
It will have to be enough to trust her.
______
When Saki asks him to run away with her, he is thinking of his old childhood home and a black haired boy sitting against a wall. He is smiling widely and holding a toy car out towards Kida. It is sunset and they are playing in the warm square of sunlight that angles in through the window.
He is thinking of tadpoles in rice paddies and a boy sitting at the foot of his hospital bed and he is thinking:
Perhaps this is for the best.
And he says yes.