fic: Lancelot and Guinevere
Title: Lancelot and Guinevere
Pairing: Yamashita Tomohisa and Sawajiri Erika
Genre: angst
Rating: R
Summary: There are only three possible endings to a love story: Tragedy. Revenge. Forgiveness. This is a story that deals with the first; A story of great and ruinous lovers. It began with a promise-- "While I am living, I shall rescue you."
Disclaimer: Owned by Johnny's and Stardust promotion. Just messing with.
Notes: Greatly inspired by a chapter from Jeannette Winterson's "The Powerbook".
It began with a promise--
"While I am living I shall rescue you."
He has gone to taking the back steps up to her condo; never the elevators, never through the front. He knows where the keys are-- under the fire extinguisher, and lets himself in through her door.
The first thing she does is run into his arms, smelling of cherry blossom and vanilla. He tangles his fingers in her hair, and holds her close.
One night he had volunteered to take her home after a night out; Ryo had been properly inebriated and couldn't go far. Erika's place was in his way, and Tomohisa offered to drop her off. So Jin and Ryo went the opposite way, and he escorted Ryo's girlfriend to his car.
The ride was spent in silence-- Erika had a vacant, faraway look in her eyes as she stared out the windshield, the lights casting shadows across her face.
He stopped at a red light; she dropped her wrap and he saw bruises, up and down her arm, on her shoulder. She replaced the garment quickly and looked studiously away.
"... Did he do that?" he asked tentatively, hoping he was not intruding.
She smiled sardonically. "Nishikido, yes," she replied without missing a beat. He'd forgotten her frankness.
"Do they hurt?"
There was a long pause before she answered. "There are some things he does," she began carefully, quietly, "Some things hurt more."
The evening rewound itself in his mind-- Ryo, always loud when drunk, had knocked back one pint too many, and went to sidle up to some busty girls by the bar. He himself had watched Erika's embarassment and fury build up to a point where he thought she would just leave and go home by herself, or go up to her boyfriend and slap him solid across the face-- but she didn't. She was still the one who picked her boyfriend up from the floor when he could no longer stand, still the one who paid for all the drinks he'd consumed.
"You deserve better," he commented offhandedly, changing gears when the light turned green. "He's my friend, but..."
Erika nodded slowly, staring at him and then looking away. "Maybe," she murmured noncommitally, "but no one else will have me."
A week later he saw her shopping at Roppongi Hills, completely by coincidence. She was wearing something in light, summery blue, sleeveless. The bruises were gone.
They exchanged pleasantries, and he asked her to have coffee with him. In a corner hidden away from the public eye, they had tea and croissants, and he asked her how she was truly doing.
"I'm fine," she replied, half-smiling. "Really, Yamashita san." Erika looked out the window, where it had started to drizzle, watching people run for shelter.
"Ryo was in a mood the other day," he narrated, sipping his own coffee. "Do you know why?"
She sighed. "We fought," she explained quietly, turning her eyes from the window to the piece of tissue paper that her tea had come with.
"Did he hurt you?" he asked suddenly, unable to stop himself.
Erika smiled indulgently at him. "Pain is a part of our relationship," she says instead, as if it made everything better. "You see, Yamashita san, I don't know how to love him without aching."
She had such sad eyes, he thought to himself then, raising the cup to his lips as he watched her tear the tissue paper to pieces.
Later, he offered to take her home. She accepted gratefully, and asked him to come up if he wanted.
It began with one thing leading to another.
She took off her shoes and her coat at the door, hanging them up in the closet. He stepped to her and she fell to him, like water falls for fire.
He made love to her gently, running his hands over past scars and old bruises that remained on her skin, pressing his lips to them as if kissing them would dull the pain, or erase it entirely.
"With me," he told her, "you will never be hurt again."
Afterward, she lay with him in tangled silk sheets, staring up at her ceiling in awe of herself and what she'd just done.
"What have we done," she whispered. "He'll be so... angry."
He took her hand, twined their fingers together. "I will protect you."
It happens again, and again; he takes the back steps to her condo, and she lets him in. The fact that she was his best friend's girlfriend meant nothing to him-- in his heart, Tomohisa was a romantic, and what was a dying relationship in favor of a living, burning love?
"One day, this will destroy us," she said, fingertips resting on his cheek.
"Love does not destroy," he answered, taking her hand and kissing the fingertips.
Tomohisa found out when Ryo found out, if the solid punch to his jaw was any indication.
"You were my friend," he spat. "My best friend. I trusted you. Get the fuck up, Pi," Ryo challenged, while Masuda restrained him.
He rubbed his jaw and straightened, only to receive another punch, straight to his gut. Tomohisa doubled over as Shige joined his friend in restraining Ryo.
"Stop it, man," Koyama said, stepping in between the two men, one hand flat on Ryo's chest, the other reaching out to steady Tomohisa. "Pi, you okay? Calm down, Ryo. Let's talk about this."
Ryo glared at all of them. "There's nothing to talk about. That guy," he said, nodding to him, "we're no longer friends."
It rained that night, hard. Tomohisa was nursing his bruises when he heard the bell ring.
Erika stood shivering at his door, soaked to the bone; her coat had done nothing to protect her from the elements. He ushered her in, relieving her of her wet clothes.
They sat silently for a few minutes, until she looked up at him and noticed his swollen jaw.
"Did he do that?" she asked slowly.
"What did he do to you?" he returned.
Erika shook her head. "Nothing." She looked down at the floor.
It all came pouring out after that. Ryo had called her faithless, treacherous, a whore. Normally so composed, she buckled in his arms, sobbing.
"I loved him," she whispered, broken. "More than anything. Loved him."
Tomohisa's face remained impassive as he held her, his jaw set in a taut line. "Ryo's own undoing," he decided, "is the fact that he cannot fight for you."
"This love has destroyed us both," she whispered finally, pulling away from him and wiping her eyes.
"No," he disagreed. "Not love."
Erika stood up. "I had no right to love you."
"But you loved me then," Tomohisa replied. "And you love me now."
He took a step towards her, but she retreated from his touch.
"Tomohisa," she pleaded, closing her eyes. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because, in the end," she paused, breathing. "In the end, I love him more."
She walks to the door, opens it a fraction. Outside the rain pours relentlessly.
"You will never see me again," she told him. He stared at her.
The door closed softly.
The Knight left the Queen to the Abbess at the nunnery, and went on a pilgrimage for seven years. On the seventh year he had the same dream thrice in one night.
The dream told him to return to his lands to find his Queen dead.
The Queen had died in the convent, a half-hour before he arrived.
She had told her servants that she hoped that her eyes never have the power to see her Knight again while she was alive.
Lancelot buried her beside his Lord and his King.
He was never able to stop loving her.
Pairing: Yamashita Tomohisa and Sawajiri Erika
Genre: angst
Rating: R
Summary: There are only three possible endings to a love story: Tragedy. Revenge. Forgiveness. This is a story that deals with the first; A story of great and ruinous lovers. It began with a promise-- "While I am living, I shall rescue you."
Disclaimer: Owned by Johnny's and Stardust promotion. Just messing with.
Notes: Greatly inspired by a chapter from Jeannette Winterson's "The Powerbook".
It began with a promise--
"While I am living I shall rescue you."
He has gone to taking the back steps up to her condo; never the elevators, never through the front. He knows where the keys are-- under the fire extinguisher, and lets himself in through her door.
The first thing she does is run into his arms, smelling of cherry blossom and vanilla. He tangles his fingers in her hair, and holds her close.
One night he had volunteered to take her home after a night out; Ryo had been properly inebriated and couldn't go far. Erika's place was in his way, and Tomohisa offered to drop her off. So Jin and Ryo went the opposite way, and he escorted Ryo's girlfriend to his car.
The ride was spent in silence-- Erika had a vacant, faraway look in her eyes as she stared out the windshield, the lights casting shadows across her face.
He stopped at a red light; she dropped her wrap and he saw bruises, up and down her arm, on her shoulder. She replaced the garment quickly and looked studiously away.
"... Did he do that?" he asked tentatively, hoping he was not intruding.
She smiled sardonically. "Nishikido, yes," she replied without missing a beat. He'd forgotten her frankness.
"Do they hurt?"
There was a long pause before she answered. "There are some things he does," she began carefully, quietly, "Some things hurt more."
The evening rewound itself in his mind-- Ryo, always loud when drunk, had knocked back one pint too many, and went to sidle up to some busty girls by the bar. He himself had watched Erika's embarassment and fury build up to a point where he thought she would just leave and go home by herself, or go up to her boyfriend and slap him solid across the face-- but she didn't. She was still the one who picked her boyfriend up from the floor when he could no longer stand, still the one who paid for all the drinks he'd consumed.
"You deserve better," he commented offhandedly, changing gears when the light turned green. "He's my friend, but..."
Erika nodded slowly, staring at him and then looking away. "Maybe," she murmured noncommitally, "but no one else will have me."
A week later he saw her shopping at Roppongi Hills, completely by coincidence. She was wearing something in light, summery blue, sleeveless. The bruises were gone.
They exchanged pleasantries, and he asked her to have coffee with him. In a corner hidden away from the public eye, they had tea and croissants, and he asked her how she was truly doing.
"I'm fine," she replied, half-smiling. "Really, Yamashita san." Erika looked out the window, where it had started to drizzle, watching people run for shelter.
"Ryo was in a mood the other day," he narrated, sipping his own coffee. "Do you know why?"
She sighed. "We fought," she explained quietly, turning her eyes from the window to the piece of tissue paper that her tea had come with.
"Did he hurt you?" he asked suddenly, unable to stop himself.
Erika smiled indulgently at him. "Pain is a part of our relationship," she says instead, as if it made everything better. "You see, Yamashita san, I don't know how to love him without aching."
She had such sad eyes, he thought to himself then, raising the cup to his lips as he watched her tear the tissue paper to pieces.
Later, he offered to take her home. She accepted gratefully, and asked him to come up if he wanted.
It began with one thing leading to another.
She took off her shoes and her coat at the door, hanging them up in the closet. He stepped to her and she fell to him, like water falls for fire.
He made love to her gently, running his hands over past scars and old bruises that remained on her skin, pressing his lips to them as if kissing them would dull the pain, or erase it entirely.
"With me," he told her, "you will never be hurt again."
Afterward, she lay with him in tangled silk sheets, staring up at her ceiling in awe of herself and what she'd just done.
"What have we done," she whispered. "He'll be so... angry."
He took her hand, twined their fingers together. "I will protect you."
It happens again, and again; he takes the back steps to her condo, and she lets him in. The fact that she was his best friend's girlfriend meant nothing to him-- in his heart, Tomohisa was a romantic, and what was a dying relationship in favor of a living, burning love?
"One day, this will destroy us," she said, fingertips resting on his cheek.
"Love does not destroy," he answered, taking her hand and kissing the fingertips.
Tomohisa found out when Ryo found out, if the solid punch to his jaw was any indication.
"You were my friend," he spat. "My best friend. I trusted you. Get the fuck up, Pi," Ryo challenged, while Masuda restrained him.
He rubbed his jaw and straightened, only to receive another punch, straight to his gut. Tomohisa doubled over as Shige joined his friend in restraining Ryo.
"Stop it, man," Koyama said, stepping in between the two men, one hand flat on Ryo's chest, the other reaching out to steady Tomohisa. "Pi, you okay? Calm down, Ryo. Let's talk about this."
Ryo glared at all of them. "There's nothing to talk about. That guy," he said, nodding to him, "we're no longer friends."
It rained that night, hard. Tomohisa was nursing his bruises when he heard the bell ring.
Erika stood shivering at his door, soaked to the bone; her coat had done nothing to protect her from the elements. He ushered her in, relieving her of her wet clothes.
They sat silently for a few minutes, until she looked up at him and noticed his swollen jaw.
"Did he do that?" she asked slowly.
"What did he do to you?" he returned.
Erika shook her head. "Nothing." She looked down at the floor.
It all came pouring out after that. Ryo had called her faithless, treacherous, a whore. Normally so composed, she buckled in his arms, sobbing.
"I loved him," she whispered, broken. "More than anything. Loved him."
Tomohisa's face remained impassive as he held her, his jaw set in a taut line. "Ryo's own undoing," he decided, "is the fact that he cannot fight for you."
"This love has destroyed us both," she whispered finally, pulling away from him and wiping her eyes.
"No," he disagreed. "Not love."
Erika stood up. "I had no right to love you."
"But you loved me then," Tomohisa replied. "And you love me now."
He took a step towards her, but she retreated from his touch.
"Tomohisa," she pleaded, closing her eyes. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because, in the end," she paused, breathing. "In the end, I love him more."
She walks to the door, opens it a fraction. Outside the rain pours relentlessly.
"You will never see me again," she told him. He stared at her.
The door closed softly.
The Knight left the Queen to the Abbess at the nunnery, and went on a pilgrimage for seven years. On the seventh year he had the same dream thrice in one night.
The dream told him to return to his lands to find his Queen dead.
The Queen had died in the convent, a half-hour before he arrived.
She had told her servants that she hoped that her eyes never have the power to see her Knight again while she was alive.
Lancelot buried her beside his Lord and his King.
He was never able to stop loving her.