Sing Another Song, Boys
Title: Sing another song, boys(Oneshot)
Pairing: Ryoda
Rating: R
Summary: 'Let's leave these lovers wondering why they cannot have each other'
Sing Another Song, Boys
They could never be. And it haunted their every waking moment making them grow old and bitter. Every time they saw each other, unfulfilled desire would come rushing over them until they were suffocated. There was nothing left for them, but arguments and hurtful words in an attempt to mask their pain and hatred towards the cruel world that kept them apart.They would see each other almost everyday without being able to express their true feelings and everyday they would go home, alone, to their empty apartments, left to wonder why they couldn't have each other.
He walks through the halls left by himself in his seemingly endless depression when he spies a figure through a slightly opened door. He walks to stand just outside the door peering into watch the perfect figure slowly change out of his clothes into others. He wants to walk in. He wants to grab that sinfully delicous body and have his way with it. But he just stands there with a clenched fist on the hem of his shirt.
Too soon the body is fully clothed and he should be on his way home, but then the figure collapses in a heap and he can't help, but rush to the side of the one he loves. He kneels down beside the heap and reaches out a hand as if to touch perfection, but eyes meet eyes and a look is exchanged. The hand drops down and both lean in closer, lips ghosting over each other, wanting to touch, but then someone else enters the room and the moment is lost.
That night they both dream the same thing, rolling on their beds with a smile of absolute happiness. They dream of a place for the two of them. Somewhere far away, like the moon, somewhere they will never reach, but somewhere they could be happy, together.
It's the summer and their friends want to go sailing. He kindly points out that none of them actually know what to do with a boat, but that doesn't seem to stop anyone, especially when two of them mention that they were apart of the boat club, not that either of them had actually ever sailed a boat by themselves before.
Since none of them own a boat, they have to rent one which is pretty difficult seeing as it is summer and a great time to go boating, so a lot of people were looking to get boats. They end up with a pretty old one that they can only hope runs better than it looks. They all climb aboard and miracously get it working, so they sail out several miles off shore and put the boat in park. As soon as they boat stops, the alcohol is brought out and everyone starts partying.
Not really being one for partying, he steals one last look at his love, before pulling of his shirt and diving into the water. The water is cool against his skin. The peacefulness of the clear, blue substance lulls him into relaxing and forgetting all his troubles. He floats that way for a long time, further and further from the boat, not paying attention to his surrondings. He only moves when he hears a scream sometime later. He looks up to see the boat on fire. Too far gone for anyone to do anything about it. Tears fall down his cheeks and mix with the salt water as all the sails burn down like paper.
The next day as the deaths are being reported over the news, he quits his job and moves out into the country where he can be alone. As days, weeks, months, years pass, the initial shock and disbelief fade, but the pain always stays, especially at night when he can only think about that smell and that hair and those hands. He closes his eyes and imagines the figure in front of him, in bed with him, those hands trailing hot fire all over his body. His hand sneaks between his legs and into his boxers. Sweet kisses are trailed everywhere. Tongues leaving paths of desire. His hand moves fast between his legs as he struggles to keep the sound of his moans down. Their eyes meet as they both come together. He can feel his boxers getting wet as silent tears stream down his face.
Years later, back in the city in some smoky bar, he stands on stage, a guitar in his hands and his small band behind him. They start to play and the melody carries through the place, soft and gentle and sweet, but no one is listening. He begins to sing the song he wrote for the one he fell in love with, the one he lost all those years ago. Suddenly he stops in the middle of the song and lets out a deep sigh as the rest of the band stops. "Let's sing another song, boys. This one has grown old and bitter."
A/N: This was based on Leonard Cohen's song "Let's sing another song, boys". Hope you liked it, sorry it's a bit depressing. Thanks for reading/commenting!
Pairing: Ryoda
Rating: R
Summary: 'Let's leave these lovers wondering why they cannot have each other'
Sing Another Song, Boys
They could never be. And it haunted their every waking moment making them grow old and bitter. Every time they saw each other, unfulfilled desire would come rushing over them until they were suffocated. There was nothing left for them, but arguments and hurtful words in an attempt to mask their pain and hatred towards the cruel world that kept them apart.They would see each other almost everyday without being able to express their true feelings and everyday they would go home, alone, to their empty apartments, left to wonder why they couldn't have each other.
He walks through the halls left by himself in his seemingly endless depression when he spies a figure through a slightly opened door. He walks to stand just outside the door peering into watch the perfect figure slowly change out of his clothes into others. He wants to walk in. He wants to grab that sinfully delicous body and have his way with it. But he just stands there with a clenched fist on the hem of his shirt.
Too soon the body is fully clothed and he should be on his way home, but then the figure collapses in a heap and he can't help, but rush to the side of the one he loves. He kneels down beside the heap and reaches out a hand as if to touch perfection, but eyes meet eyes and a look is exchanged. The hand drops down and both lean in closer, lips ghosting over each other, wanting to touch, but then someone else enters the room and the moment is lost.
That night they both dream the same thing, rolling on their beds with a smile of absolute happiness. They dream of a place for the two of them. Somewhere far away, like the moon, somewhere they will never reach, but somewhere they could be happy, together.
It's the summer and their friends want to go sailing. He kindly points out that none of them actually know what to do with a boat, but that doesn't seem to stop anyone, especially when two of them mention that they were apart of the boat club, not that either of them had actually ever sailed a boat by themselves before.
Since none of them own a boat, they have to rent one which is pretty difficult seeing as it is summer and a great time to go boating, so a lot of people were looking to get boats. They end up with a pretty old one that they can only hope runs better than it looks. They all climb aboard and miracously get it working, so they sail out several miles off shore and put the boat in park. As soon as they boat stops, the alcohol is brought out and everyone starts partying.
Not really being one for partying, he steals one last look at his love, before pulling of his shirt and diving into the water. The water is cool against his skin. The peacefulness of the clear, blue substance lulls him into relaxing and forgetting all his troubles. He floats that way for a long time, further and further from the boat, not paying attention to his surrondings. He only moves when he hears a scream sometime later. He looks up to see the boat on fire. Too far gone for anyone to do anything about it. Tears fall down his cheeks and mix with the salt water as all the sails burn down like paper.
The next day as the deaths are being reported over the news, he quits his job and moves out into the country where he can be alone. As days, weeks, months, years pass, the initial shock and disbelief fade, but the pain always stays, especially at night when he can only think about that smell and that hair and those hands. He closes his eyes and imagines the figure in front of him, in bed with him, those hands trailing hot fire all over his body. His hand sneaks between his legs and into his boxers. Sweet kisses are trailed everywhere. Tongues leaving paths of desire. His hand moves fast between his legs as he struggles to keep the sound of his moans down. Their eyes meet as they both come together. He can feel his boxers getting wet as silent tears stream down his face.
Years later, back in the city in some smoky bar, he stands on stage, a guitar in his hands and his small band behind him. They start to play and the melody carries through the place, soft and gentle and sweet, but no one is listening. He begins to sing the song he wrote for the one he fell in love with, the one he lost all those years ago. Suddenly he stops in the middle of the song and lets out a deep sigh as the rest of the band stops. "Let's sing another song, boys. This one has grown old and bitter."
A/N: This was based on Leonard Cohen's song "Let's sing another song, boys". Hope you liked it, sorry it's a bit depressing. Thanks for reading/commenting!