Kisses like tears and cigarettes - Reita/Aoi
Chapters: Oneshot
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: After they finish with the recording, Aoi suggests they go on a drive in Reita’s car.
Word count: 847
Disclaimer: I'm in no way affiliated with the GazettE or PS Company.
Characters are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people is purely coincidental.
Comments: crossposted to jrock_quotefic.
Great many thanks to heygeorge!
Inspiration:
It's the long awaited camp.
-Because I've always played [the guitar] and recorded it in my house, playing it in the studio after a long absence, and the mood that everyone made up, made me think "This is good after all". After that, I went driving with Reita. Inside the car, we talked about many things that we usually couldn't talk much about, and that is very fresh as well...
(From this interview, credit for translation to kisekii.)
After they finish with the recording, Aoi suggests they go on a drive in Reita’s car.
When Reita asks, “Where to?”
Aoi replies, “Nowhere. Somewhere. I don’t care.”
So Reita puts the key in the ignition, starts the engine, puts the car into gear, backs out of a drive way, turns left, and just drives. And Aoi rolls down a window, lets his hand hang outside, leans back in the passenger seat, and just smiles.
They find a little spot near some trees and they sit inside the car and talk and talk about everything and nothing in particular until the sun is hanging low on the horizon. The conversation slowly dies, but the silence that grows between them is not of the oppressive kind. Both windows rolled down, they stare ahead, at nothing in particular. Smoke from their cigarettes is rolling from their parted lips and pushing through their nostrils, mixing together at the top, before seeping out the windows.
Reita’s thoughts are scattered and fleeting, until his gaze focuses on the windshield, bathed in warm yellow glow, splattered bug guts here and there. The similarity and the contrast of the situation is like a punch to his stomach. He remembers the last time they were like this, only Aoi and him in his car.
They had finished the recording. By the time they left the studio, it was already night outside. Instead of going home to rest, they decided to go out drinking because some more than needed unwinding. Unlike Uruha and that night apparently Aoi, Reita was never much of the unwinding type. Plus he was by car.
In the end it was all so very unfair. After all the drinks Uruha poured into himself and Aoi, Reita had to be the one to drive the later home. So very unfair in the end when he parked outside Aoi’s apartment. Aoi turned towards him, a drunken thankful smile on his face, and suddenly started crying. Leaving Reita absolutely horrified. Looking at Aoi, hands on his face, shoulders shaking, loud sobs racking through his whole body. Avoiding looking at Aoi, watching raindrops crash against the windshield, merging together, flowing down in rivulets, a nearby streetlamp painting everything orange. Sounds of rain and crying mixing together.
Reita lit a cigarette, but instead of calming his nerves the cigarette smoke made him nauseous. Rolling the window slightly down, he threw it out on the wet asphalt. Daring to look back at Aoi, he fidgeted in his seat. He didn’t know what to do. He was a man. A man wasn’t good at dealing with tears. A man wasn’t supposed to cry at all. That moment in time he really wished somebody reminded Aoi of those facts.
“Aoi,” he called out finally.
His only response was a few chocked sobs.
Shifting in his seat, he leaned towards his friend. Taking Aoi’s hands away from his face, he moved them to Aoi’s lap. Aoi looked up at Reita, his tear streaked face utterly miserable, but still didn’t stop crying. Pressing his palms to Aoi’s wet, blotched cheeks, Reita didn’t know what to do to make him stop.
“Aoi,” he repeated, his voice softer, closer. Just before brushing his lips against Aoi’s.
A surprised whimper escaped Aoi’s mouth. A single whimper before Reita silenced it with a firm kiss on Aoi’s wet lips, and drowned all the others in the following tender kisses.
Drawing back, Reita opened his eyes. He looked at Aoi, sad eyes, circled with wet lashes, confused expression on his face. Before Reita could utter his name again, Aoi jerked away, pushing the car door open, and ran into the rain.
Reita watched him go, and after he disappeared out of sight, Reita remained sitting inside his car.
Just staring through the windshield.
Just staring through the windshield. “I’m sorry,” Reita suddenly blurts out.
“Oh? Sorry for what?” Aoi asks taken by surprise.
“That night, last time I took you home. For kissing you.”
“You? Kissed me?”
“You don’t remember that?”
“No, I was completely drunk.”
“Do you remember crying in my car?”
“Maybe.”
“You were crying and I didn’t know what to do. I kind of kissed you. And you ran out.”
“Oh.”
“You really don’t remember?”
“No. Was it good?”
“What?”
“The kiss.”
“Eh, I don’t know why I did that. I am really sorry, Aoi.”
“You are sorry?”
“Yeah,” Reita replies, concerned.
But Aoi is in a good mood, only grinning back at Reita. Leaning towards him, he cups Reita’s blushing face with his hands and brushes their lips against each other. Just a simple kiss. Just like the first one Aoi doesn’t remember.
But Reita remembers. He remembers that first kiss tasting of tears and beer, just like he’ll remember this one tasting of smiles and cigarettes. The similarity and the contrast of the kisses are like a jab to his solar plexus. Feeling Aoi moving away, he opens his eyes to find him reclining in the seat once again, hand hanging outside the window, still smiling.
“There. Now we’re even,” he says.
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: After they finish with the recording, Aoi suggests they go on a drive in Reita’s car.
Word count: 847
Disclaimer: I'm in no way affiliated with the GazettE or PS Company.
Characters are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people is purely coincidental.
Comments: crossposted to jrock_quotefic.
Great many thanks to heygeorge!
Inspiration:
It's the long awaited camp.
-Because I've always played [the guitar] and recorded it in my house, playing it in the studio after a long absence, and the mood that everyone made up, made me think "This is good after all". After that, I went driving with Reita. Inside the car, we talked about many things that we usually couldn't talk much about, and that is very fresh as well...
(From this interview, credit for translation to kisekii.)
After they finish with the recording, Aoi suggests they go on a drive in Reita’s car.
When Reita asks, “Where to?”
Aoi replies, “Nowhere. Somewhere. I don’t care.”
So Reita puts the key in the ignition, starts the engine, puts the car into gear, backs out of a drive way, turns left, and just drives. And Aoi rolls down a window, lets his hand hang outside, leans back in the passenger seat, and just smiles.
They find a little spot near some trees and they sit inside the car and talk and talk about everything and nothing in particular until the sun is hanging low on the horizon. The conversation slowly dies, but the silence that grows between them is not of the oppressive kind. Both windows rolled down, they stare ahead, at nothing in particular. Smoke from their cigarettes is rolling from their parted lips and pushing through their nostrils, mixing together at the top, before seeping out the windows.
Reita’s thoughts are scattered and fleeting, until his gaze focuses on the windshield, bathed in warm yellow glow, splattered bug guts here and there. The similarity and the contrast of the situation is like a punch to his stomach. He remembers the last time they were like this, only Aoi and him in his car.
They had finished the recording. By the time they left the studio, it was already night outside. Instead of going home to rest, they decided to go out drinking because some more than needed unwinding. Unlike Uruha and that night apparently Aoi, Reita was never much of the unwinding type. Plus he was by car.
In the end it was all so very unfair. After all the drinks Uruha poured into himself and Aoi, Reita had to be the one to drive the later home. So very unfair in the end when he parked outside Aoi’s apartment. Aoi turned towards him, a drunken thankful smile on his face, and suddenly started crying. Leaving Reita absolutely horrified. Looking at Aoi, hands on his face, shoulders shaking, loud sobs racking through his whole body. Avoiding looking at Aoi, watching raindrops crash against the windshield, merging together, flowing down in rivulets, a nearby streetlamp painting everything orange. Sounds of rain and crying mixing together.
Reita lit a cigarette, but instead of calming his nerves the cigarette smoke made him nauseous. Rolling the window slightly down, he threw it out on the wet asphalt. Daring to look back at Aoi, he fidgeted in his seat. He didn’t know what to do. He was a man. A man wasn’t good at dealing with tears. A man wasn’t supposed to cry at all. That moment in time he really wished somebody reminded Aoi of those facts.
“Aoi,” he called out finally.
His only response was a few chocked sobs.
Shifting in his seat, he leaned towards his friend. Taking Aoi’s hands away from his face, he moved them to Aoi’s lap. Aoi looked up at Reita, his tear streaked face utterly miserable, but still didn’t stop crying. Pressing his palms to Aoi’s wet, blotched cheeks, Reita didn’t know what to do to make him stop.
“Aoi,” he repeated, his voice softer, closer. Just before brushing his lips against Aoi’s.
A surprised whimper escaped Aoi’s mouth. A single whimper before Reita silenced it with a firm kiss on Aoi’s wet lips, and drowned all the others in the following tender kisses.
Drawing back, Reita opened his eyes. He looked at Aoi, sad eyes, circled with wet lashes, confused expression on his face. Before Reita could utter his name again, Aoi jerked away, pushing the car door open, and ran into the rain.
Reita watched him go, and after he disappeared out of sight, Reita remained sitting inside his car.
Just staring through the windshield.
Just staring through the windshield. “I’m sorry,” Reita suddenly blurts out.
“Oh? Sorry for what?” Aoi asks taken by surprise.
“That night, last time I took you home. For kissing you.”
“You? Kissed me?”
“You don’t remember that?”
“No, I was completely drunk.”
“Do you remember crying in my car?”
“Maybe.”
“You were crying and I didn’t know what to do. I kind of kissed you. And you ran out.”
“Oh.”
“You really don’t remember?”
“No. Was it good?”
“What?”
“The kiss.”
“Eh, I don’t know why I did that. I am really sorry, Aoi.”
“You are sorry?”
“Yeah,” Reita replies, concerned.
But Aoi is in a good mood, only grinning back at Reita. Leaning towards him, he cups Reita’s blushing face with his hands and brushes their lips against each other. Just a simple kiss. Just like the first one Aoi doesn’t remember.
But Reita remembers. He remembers that first kiss tasting of tears and beer, just like he’ll remember this one tasting of smiles and cigarettes. The similarity and the contrast of the kisses are like a jab to his solar plexus. Feeling Aoi moving away, he opens his eyes to find him reclining in the seat once again, hand hanging outside the window, still smiling.
“There. Now we’re even,” he says.