Fic - My Heart's Left Wanting; Nishikido Ryo/Sawajiri Erika
Title: My Heart's Left Wanting
Author: noble_scarlet / honeymilk_tea
Pairing: Nishikido Ryo/Sawajiri Erika
Genre: You were the one that was never worth leaving.
Summary: no i'm not aware of how i could possibly love you without aching // this is the time it's a delicate line to the beginning of what's yet to come
Disclaimer: No claims to them, just fun to play with.
Rating: R
Notes: inspired by calledinvain, with thanks to music from corposant.
I can feel the storm inside you.
The pictures that came out infuriated him, and he had no idea why. The fact that they were writing about that Tsuyoshi whoever knowing her a year, that he had proposed to her and planned to move abroad... Ryo felt like hitting something. In the end he did; an unsuspecting wall bore the brunt of his frustrations. Then he mailed her and asked her to come over, tonight if possible.
Erika read the mail with some trepidation. She hadn't seen neither hide nor hair of Nishikido for a good three months-- and now here he was, coming around again. He was like a fucking curveball, and she never knew what he wanted until the exact moment that he let her know-- it was maddening, but she drove her car up to his apartment that night anyway.
He opened the door without a word, and she stepped inside, taking off her shoes near the door. He closed the door and locked it; she padded inside, barely sparing him a glance.
"Speak, Nishikido," she began testily.
"Why, have you got someplace else to be?" he returned, coming up beside her. "Like with that hotshot producer you were caught holding hands with-- what's the deal with that?"
"What do you care whatever the deal is between me and him anyway?" she asked, facing him. "Or with anyone else, for that matter? We're over, Ryo. Didn't you say that yourself? You said, and I quote, 'we're going nowhere with this, and it's better if we just don't see each other anymore'. That's what you said."
He stared at her for a minute. "... You called me Ryo."
Her jaw dropped. "Did you hear anything I just said?"
"I heard you," he confirmed, coming back to his senses. "I just-- I didn't--"
"You didn't...? What?" she prompted, challenging him with her eyes.
I didn't think I'd be replaced so soon.
I hate how much I love you, boy
His kisses will do her in someday, but in the meantime she'd rather drown in them than contemplate their meaning.
His fingers run the length of her spine, down her thigh, behind her knee. She melts.
"What are we doing?" she asked him breathlessly, hands in his hair. "Nishikido. What are we..."
"Kissing," he told her shortly, teeth scraping her neck. "We're kissing, Sawajiri."
His lips are clever, he knows exactly where to touch her. He's hiking up her dress, pulling on her hair. She slides her fingertips up the length of his neck and wonders vaguely why this feels like goodbye.
They'd said their goodbyes before.
Kissing him is like revisiting a part of her life that she wants to forget; she's forgotten his smile, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way smoke leaves his mouth, and his hands, but these kisses, his, and she'll never be branded so well again. This, she knows, with a very clear ring of finality. No one will ever kiss her the way Nishikido does.
Oh the loss of you does wreck my days
Later that night she pulls her shoes back on, one hand flat against the wall to steady herself.
Erika looks up to find Ryo watching her intently, arms crossed over his chest. She straightens, meets his eyes level. "I'll never see you again."
He does not reply. She moves for the door, but he's there before she can reach for the knob. Erika ducks out without meeting his gaze. Walking down the hallway, she realizes that she never hears his door close.
So she looks back, and he's still there, standing by the doorway with his hand on the knob. He nods at her, as if saying, "go on".
And before she can think about what she's doing, she's running back to him, back into his arms. He opens them to her, holds her close as she buries her face in his neck.
She does not cry-- she will not cry. She stands on tiptoe, whispers something in his ear. Something true, something he'll remember. He breathes in, says he knows.
Then she pulls away. And she doesn't look back. He closes the door.
Author: noble_scarlet / honeymilk_tea
Pairing: Nishikido Ryo/Sawajiri Erika
Genre: You were the one that was never worth leaving.
Summary: no i'm not aware of how i could possibly love you without aching // this is the time it's a delicate line to the beginning of what's yet to come
Disclaimer: No claims to them, just fun to play with.
Rating: R
Notes: inspired by calledinvain, with thanks to music from corposant.
I can feel the storm inside you.
The pictures that came out infuriated him, and he had no idea why. The fact that they were writing about that Tsuyoshi whoever knowing her a year, that he had proposed to her and planned to move abroad... Ryo felt like hitting something. In the end he did; an unsuspecting wall bore the brunt of his frustrations. Then he mailed her and asked her to come over, tonight if possible.
Erika read the mail with some trepidation. She hadn't seen neither hide nor hair of Nishikido for a good three months-- and now here he was, coming around again. He was like a fucking curveball, and she never knew what he wanted until the exact moment that he let her know-- it was maddening, but she drove her car up to his apartment that night anyway.
He opened the door without a word, and she stepped inside, taking off her shoes near the door. He closed the door and locked it; she padded inside, barely sparing him a glance.
"Speak, Nishikido," she began testily.
"Why, have you got someplace else to be?" he returned, coming up beside her. "Like with that hotshot producer you were caught holding hands with-- what's the deal with that?"
"What do you care whatever the deal is between me and him anyway?" she asked, facing him. "Or with anyone else, for that matter? We're over, Ryo. Didn't you say that yourself? You said, and I quote, 'we're going nowhere with this, and it's better if we just don't see each other anymore'. That's what you said."
He stared at her for a minute. "... You called me Ryo."
Her jaw dropped. "Did you hear anything I just said?"
"I heard you," he confirmed, coming back to his senses. "I just-- I didn't--"
"You didn't...? What?" she prompted, challenging him with her eyes.
I didn't think I'd be replaced so soon.
I hate how much I love you, boy
His kisses will do her in someday, but in the meantime she'd rather drown in them than contemplate their meaning.
His fingers run the length of her spine, down her thigh, behind her knee. She melts.
"What are we doing?" she asked him breathlessly, hands in his hair. "Nishikido. What are we..."
"Kissing," he told her shortly, teeth scraping her neck. "We're kissing, Sawajiri."
His lips are clever, he knows exactly where to touch her. He's hiking up her dress, pulling on her hair. She slides her fingertips up the length of his neck and wonders vaguely why this feels like goodbye.
They'd said their goodbyes before.
Kissing him is like revisiting a part of her life that she wants to forget; she's forgotten his smile, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way smoke leaves his mouth, and his hands, but these kisses, his, and she'll never be branded so well again. This, she knows, with a very clear ring of finality. No one will ever kiss her the way Nishikido does.
Oh the loss of you does wreck my days
Later that night she pulls her shoes back on, one hand flat against the wall to steady herself.
Erika looks up to find Ryo watching her intently, arms crossed over his chest. She straightens, meets his eyes level. "I'll never see you again."
He does not reply. She moves for the door, but he's there before she can reach for the knob. Erika ducks out without meeting his gaze. Walking down the hallway, she realizes that she never hears his door close.
So she looks back, and he's still there, standing by the doorway with his hand on the knob. He nods at her, as if saying, "go on".
And before she can think about what she's doing, she's running back to him, back into his arms. He opens them to her, holds her close as she buries her face in his neck.
She does not cry-- she will not cry. She stands on tiptoe, whispers something in his ear. Something true, something he'll remember. He breathes in, says he knows.
Then she pulls away. And she doesn't look back. He closes the door.