[gazefic] it will be a life long thing [aoi/ruki]
cleaning my WIP folder?
I lost count of how many times I said I would write them again. but then I did. they turned out pretty hopeless. I think I like them that way.
it will be a life long thing
“No matter how trashed you get, just don’t let yourself be dragged down a road,” Uruha once advised. Uruha knew how to get trashed and not end up in an awkward situation with a strange woman or man and how to arrive home with at least as many articles of clothing on as he had left with (sometimes more). Something Aoi couldn’t exactly say about himself, which was why he trusted Uruha, in this aspect. He took this piece of advice and cherished it in his heart and thought it was a word of true wisdom and Uruha was truly a wise man.
It had something to do with the dust from the road rubbing into your skin and healing into you in black marks. Then it stayed and for the rest of your life, you had dust in your skin.
“What if the dust was shiny?” Ruki once mused.
Aoi didn’t even want to think about Ruki and shiny stuff and the possibilities, oh! the possibilities.
Now that he was facing the sky and the faintly warm asphalt was hugging his back, Aoi was starting to realise he must have made a wrong move somewhere on the way. He must have forgotten something.
“Aoi!” Ruki’s voice called from the distance, vibrating at the edges as if he was standing under a different sky altogether. Ruki was always this hateful creature that had one drink and was already funny, but then sobered as soon as he came out to the fresh air. Aoi was only fermenting more in contact with air.
In some empty street at the edge of the world, it was terribly dark and Aoi in his black clothes was but a hole in the ground, the darkness concentrated in him so that even mosquitoes kept away, afraid of being sucked in. He could feel the trembles of Ruki’s footsteps in his own fingertips pressed to the surface of the road.
“Let’s go.” He didn’t see Ruki until he felt a tug at his arm, but Aoi wasn’t willing to get up and Ruki wasn’t even trying; in the end he just collapsed onto Aoi, straddling his waist. Aoi started to wonder if all of this was even real, because he knew he should feel Ruki’s weight, but he didn’t.
There had to be to something wrong with the gravity. That would explain a lot.
“You know what, you know, let’s not,” he was saying, Aoi was saying, it was really him saying it and it took him by surprise, “let’s not go anywhere,” as he was clawing for something, frantic, impatient, rubbing Ruki’s thighs, Ruki’s thighs in his tight jeans. He was saying more words, because words seemed to be the currency, although he didn’t know what he was buying.
“Get up,” Ruki said and there wasn’t a more meaningless thing in the world. “This is so pathetic.” He was searching the pockets of Aoi’s jacket for cigarettes. “Fuck.”
Fuck what? Fuck, it didn’t matter, the all-encompassing word that could mean, Where’s your lighter? or What the hell are we doing here? or I love you but more realistically I hate you. Then Ruki kept talking, making wide gestures that Aoi could follow because of the orange point burning in his hand, and Aoi followed that orange point and not what Ruki was talking about at all and it was all bullshit anyway.
“...probably asleep, but I could call them and they’d come pick us up anyway, ‘cause the motherfuckers love us anyway, don’t you think, or at least me and Aoi, Aoi, why can’t we ever do it unless we’re so wasted that you don’t know your name anymore?”
“Let’s not go anywhere,” Aoi repeated and then he sort of caught the last bit, “do what?” And, “what name?”
Ruki shook his head, making the fluffy strands of his hair fall into his eyes. He shifted lower and the burning orange point made a wide arch towards Aoi’s crotch as Ruki started undoing Aoi’s pants with his both hands. Aoi would feel ash falling onto his stomach, if he could feel.
It was the drunk logic that made Ruki lower down to his hand instead of bringing the hand with the cigarette to his face to take a drag, and that was where his will abandoned him, half-lying with his breath coming to brush the patch of skin above the waistband of Aoi’s boxers, which Aoi would feel if he could feel. Under different circumstances, Aoi would say, “We’re in a street, you know,” but they wouldn’t even be here under different circumstances.
Ruki didn’t know if he had dropped the cigarette onto the asphalt or inside Aoi’s pants and frankly, he didn’t care about such petty little details as he took Aoi in. For a while the only sound was that of his mouth at work, but then Aoi goes and says,
“Maybe we should go after all,”
and Ruki just spits him the fuck out.
“What is this?” he asked grabbing him and Aoi wasn’t getting the least bit hard.
“It’s a dick,” Aoi said.
“God. You’re coming back, aren’t you?”
“Where to?” Aoi wanted to know, although the right question would have been where from? and Ruki got all disappointed and he got to his feet and pulled up his tight jeans, which had been slipping off his non-existent butt.
But it was alright, because Aoi knew he was going to get on his feet eventually, and they would go to Ruki’s and there they would fuck and Ruki would be nice to him afterwards and the next day-or it would already be the next day. For now, Aoi was just a black hole in the street, reality’s mistake in calculations. Don’t let yourself be dragged down the road, he remembered and he was so proud of himself, because no one was dragging him. He couldn’t see Ruki now. Lying flat on the road, he stared ahead.
The sky was turning gray.
xxx
I lost count of how many times I said I would write them again. but then I did. they turned out pretty hopeless. I think I like them that way.
it will be a life long thing
“No matter how trashed you get, just don’t let yourself be dragged down a road,” Uruha once advised. Uruha knew how to get trashed and not end up in an awkward situation with a strange woman or man and how to arrive home with at least as many articles of clothing on as he had left with (sometimes more). Something Aoi couldn’t exactly say about himself, which was why he trusted Uruha, in this aspect. He took this piece of advice and cherished it in his heart and thought it was a word of true wisdom and Uruha was truly a wise man.
It had something to do with the dust from the road rubbing into your skin and healing into you in black marks. Then it stayed and for the rest of your life, you had dust in your skin.
“What if the dust was shiny?” Ruki once mused.
Aoi didn’t even want to think about Ruki and shiny stuff and the possibilities, oh! the possibilities.
Now that he was facing the sky and the faintly warm asphalt was hugging his back, Aoi was starting to realise he must have made a wrong move somewhere on the way. He must have forgotten something.
“Aoi!” Ruki’s voice called from the distance, vibrating at the edges as if he was standing under a different sky altogether. Ruki was always this hateful creature that had one drink and was already funny, but then sobered as soon as he came out to the fresh air. Aoi was only fermenting more in contact with air.
In some empty street at the edge of the world, it was terribly dark and Aoi in his black clothes was but a hole in the ground, the darkness concentrated in him so that even mosquitoes kept away, afraid of being sucked in. He could feel the trembles of Ruki’s footsteps in his own fingertips pressed to the surface of the road.
“Let’s go.” He didn’t see Ruki until he felt a tug at his arm, but Aoi wasn’t willing to get up and Ruki wasn’t even trying; in the end he just collapsed onto Aoi, straddling his waist. Aoi started to wonder if all of this was even real, because he knew he should feel Ruki’s weight, but he didn’t.
There had to be to something wrong with the gravity. That would explain a lot.
“You know what, you know, let’s not,” he was saying, Aoi was saying, it was really him saying it and it took him by surprise, “let’s not go anywhere,” as he was clawing for something, frantic, impatient, rubbing Ruki’s thighs, Ruki’s thighs in his tight jeans. He was saying more words, because words seemed to be the currency, although he didn’t know what he was buying.
“Get up,” Ruki said and there wasn’t a more meaningless thing in the world. “This is so pathetic.” He was searching the pockets of Aoi’s jacket for cigarettes. “Fuck.”
Fuck what? Fuck, it didn’t matter, the all-encompassing word that could mean, Where’s your lighter? or What the hell are we doing here? or I love you but more realistically I hate you. Then Ruki kept talking, making wide gestures that Aoi could follow because of the orange point burning in his hand, and Aoi followed that orange point and not what Ruki was talking about at all and it was all bullshit anyway.
“...probably asleep, but I could call them and they’d come pick us up anyway, ‘cause the motherfuckers love us anyway, don’t you think, or at least me and Aoi, Aoi, why can’t we ever do it unless we’re so wasted that you don’t know your name anymore?”
“Let’s not go anywhere,” Aoi repeated and then he sort of caught the last bit, “do what?” And, “what name?”
Ruki shook his head, making the fluffy strands of his hair fall into his eyes. He shifted lower and the burning orange point made a wide arch towards Aoi’s crotch as Ruki started undoing Aoi’s pants with his both hands. Aoi would feel ash falling onto his stomach, if he could feel.
It was the drunk logic that made Ruki lower down to his hand instead of bringing the hand with the cigarette to his face to take a drag, and that was where his will abandoned him, half-lying with his breath coming to brush the patch of skin above the waistband of Aoi’s boxers, which Aoi would feel if he could feel. Under different circumstances, Aoi would say, “We’re in a street, you know,” but they wouldn’t even be here under different circumstances.
Ruki didn’t know if he had dropped the cigarette onto the asphalt or inside Aoi’s pants and frankly, he didn’t care about such petty little details as he took Aoi in. For a while the only sound was that of his mouth at work, but then Aoi goes and says,
“Maybe we should go after all,”
and Ruki just spits him the fuck out.
“What is this?” he asked grabbing him and Aoi wasn’t getting the least bit hard.
“It’s a dick,” Aoi said.
“God. You’re coming back, aren’t you?”
“Where to?” Aoi wanted to know, although the right question would have been where from? and Ruki got all disappointed and he got to his feet and pulled up his tight jeans, which had been slipping off his non-existent butt.
But it was alright, because Aoi knew he was going to get on his feet eventually, and they would go to Ruki’s and there they would fuck and Ruki would be nice to him afterwards and the next day-or it would already be the next day. For now, Aoi was just a black hole in the street, reality’s mistake in calculations. Don’t let yourself be dragged down the road, he remembered and he was so proud of himself, because no one was dragging him. He couldn’t see Ruki now. Lying flat on the road, he stared ahead.
The sky was turning gray.
xxx