Black Coffee (One-Shot)
Title: Black Coffee
Chapters: N/A
Authors: konicoffee
Genre: Drama, Some angst
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story.
Warnings: Zilch
Rating: G
Pairings/Characters: Tora/Aoi
Band/s: Alice Nine, the GazettE
Synopsis: Even when Shinji doesn’t think he needs him, Yuu is always there.
Comments: This works as a standalone or as a sequel to Green Tea by ronnieshade. Oh, and yes. I'm back.
The sound of the television serves as background noise while Shinji looks at the prowling overcast from behind a large glass window. A smile curls his lips; while everyone wards the rain away, he welcomes it like a friend. Every once in a while, the rain keeps him company, telling him stories, telling him everything is going to be okay. Water is Heaven’s blessing, so he remembers being told as a child. Thus, rain is a blessing as well.
As are tears.
His attention returns to the ocean of boxes surrounding him. A soft laugh escapes him while he looks at the cardboard storage spaces, and he realizes he has yet again forgotten where he kept that bloody photo album. Amidst his chuckles he coughs haphazardly at the dust that had settled on the cardboard surfaces during his keepsakes’ long slumber in his attic. Taking that as a signal, he searches. Sometime during his hunt for the elusive picture book, he comes across a particular box. Said box has a CD in it. Two, three… he finds a familiar name etched on the inlays that are still so carefully set in plastic cases.
Alice Nine. He always did like that name.
Forgotten moments creep up to him and flash before his eyes, resound in his ear, tingle on his skin. All at once, the lights burn, the music plays, and the cheers from the crowd are once again so loud they shake him to the core. He finds himself humming softly along to the one of the songs playing in the background of those moments. They are moments of glory - glory days of band members. Of friends. Of brothers.
Of a certain lover.
He looks at one of the CD’s that has his face on the cover. His face was on it too. Gliding a thumb over the smooth surface, he smiles at memories of sleepless nights, guitar strings, written songs, and secrets whispered against soft bed sheets.
Then at the memory of how he loses a friend because of this relationship, his smile disappears.
Carefully, he removes the inlay, and his eyes glosses over lyrics that he know longer knows by heart, no longer knows by chord and riff. Even after asking himself the same question a million times, he is still unsure whether or not the brief moments of happiness with him were worth the many clashes and the harsh words that always came along. Sometimes even love isn’t that important, Shinji learns, but he still asks anyway. He still wonders if it was important enough to leave the band, to abandon the music he still holds dear.
There is no more need to question if it was worth losing his best friend; he already knows that it never was.
Turning toward the window, he sighs at the drops of rain collecting on the glass, concealing his view of the sky. It was raining that day too, he remembers, the day that friendship ended. So it is strange, really, how the rain pays him a visit again to watch their friendship start anew. Even stranger that it would come right on his wedding day.
Just then, Shinji remembers which box has the photo book he’s looking for. With one more cough at the dust bunnies guarding their territory, he opens the right box, and his line of sight says hello to the long unopened album of photographs. Running a sweater sleeve-covered hand over the leather surface, he carefully takes the album out and opens it, smiling at the pictures it reveals.
There she is - his beautiful wife. And there he is - his best man.
The same man standing beside him during her funeral.
With a smile, Shinji smoothes his fingertip over a random photo, right on the spot that has her face on it. He manages to do it before the teardrop that fell could ruin the fragile printed material. The sprinkling outside murmurs to him, and if he listens hard enough, he could hear her voice. He could hear their conversations - stories of their past and their plans for the future. Every ‘hello,’ every ‘I love you,’ and every ‘goodbye,’ especially her goodbyes; they all tug violently on his heartstrings. The warmth of her laughter gently pulls him in an embrace, and softly she repeats her vows.
With every breath he takes, he too reiterates his promises. “… Till death do us part.”
The drumming on his window tells Shinji that the rain is pouring harder. At the same time, the torrent in his chest slowly ceases. “I hope you’re right,” he says to one of her photographs before he closes the album.
Right on cue, someone opens the door. “Looks like Shinji left his door open again.”
“I’m here.” Shinji manages to gather himself before this someone could walk past the doorway and enter the living room. He doesn’t, however, have enough time to put the album back into its box. Not before he looks at his best friend walking into the room, into his life just when he needed him.
Even when Shinji doesn’t think he needs him, Yuu is always there.
The no longer lonely man that he is now flashes his old friend a grin. Yuu responds with a raised eyebrow. “Reminiscing?”
Shinji shakes his head. “Letting go.”
“Don’t,” his best friend answers him, chuckling, “she’d blame me.”
Shinji merely looks down, staring blankly at the book’s leather surface. He begins to taste the overly brewed bitterness of his smile seeping into his mouth, so he laughs it off. “I wonder if your wife is aware that you’re my first love.” Shinji says it like a joke but means it like an apology.
Yuu catches his sarcasm and shrugs it off his shoulders. “Yours probably always knew.”
Looking up from his living room floor, Shinji smiles at Yuu one more time, and he recounts one of the many conversations he remembers having with his wife. “You know, before I dated her, I told her that she was one of my best friends. She said that she always thought best friends were lovers in their past lives,” he says, “and fate just made it so they could encounter other souls.”
“If that’s the case,” Yuu replies, and by some sort of miracle, he echoes the exact same words she whispered to him right before she took her last breath. “I’m glad I got to meet you again in this lifetime.”
Laughing softly, Shinji simply nods in response. Words aren’t necessary to confirm that the feeling is mutual. He stands up from the sea of cardboard boxes, taking himself out before he drowns. At that he wonders how many times exactly Yuu has saved him.
Maybe this really is the best arrangement for them, he thinks. Perhaps it’s best that they aren’t romantically involved with each other. Being in love isn’t necessary for soulmates like them.
“Your usual black coffee?” Shinji offers, despite abhorring the stuff that the other man finds himself addicted to. He’s more of a tea person, really.
Yuu hums and smiles. “For old time’s sake,” he says, “I’ll have green tea.”
Taking careful steps over the boxes, Shinji makes his way toward the kitchen. He stops, however, and looks over his shoulder. “You know,” he starts, “I know for a fact that you never liked green tea. Why do you take it if you find it so disgusting?”
The other man coughs at the dusty cardboard lids that he proceeds to pick up. “I’m not telling you.”
Shinji pads to his kitchen, letting out a huff. Amidst the creaking floorboards on the hallway, he hears the rain. “Yeah, I know,” he whispers back to it, “everything is going to be okay.”
Chapters: N/A
Authors: konicoffee
Genre: Drama, Some angst
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story.
Warnings: Zilch
Rating: G
Pairings/Characters: Tora/Aoi
Band/s: Alice Nine, the GazettE
Synopsis: Even when Shinji doesn’t think he needs him, Yuu is always there.
Comments: This works as a standalone or as a sequel to Green Tea by ronnieshade. Oh, and yes. I'm back.
The sound of the television serves as background noise while Shinji looks at the prowling overcast from behind a large glass window. A smile curls his lips; while everyone wards the rain away, he welcomes it like a friend. Every once in a while, the rain keeps him company, telling him stories, telling him everything is going to be okay. Water is Heaven’s blessing, so he remembers being told as a child. Thus, rain is a blessing as well.
As are tears.
His attention returns to the ocean of boxes surrounding him. A soft laugh escapes him while he looks at the cardboard storage spaces, and he realizes he has yet again forgotten where he kept that bloody photo album. Amidst his chuckles he coughs haphazardly at the dust that had settled on the cardboard surfaces during his keepsakes’ long slumber in his attic. Taking that as a signal, he searches. Sometime during his hunt for the elusive picture book, he comes across a particular box. Said box has a CD in it. Two, three… he finds a familiar name etched on the inlays that are still so carefully set in plastic cases.
Alice Nine. He always did like that name.
Forgotten moments creep up to him and flash before his eyes, resound in his ear, tingle on his skin. All at once, the lights burn, the music plays, and the cheers from the crowd are once again so loud they shake him to the core. He finds himself humming softly along to the one of the songs playing in the background of those moments. They are moments of glory - glory days of band members. Of friends. Of brothers.
Of a certain lover.
He looks at one of the CD’s that has his face on the cover. His face was on it too. Gliding a thumb over the smooth surface, he smiles at memories of sleepless nights, guitar strings, written songs, and secrets whispered against soft bed sheets.
Then at the memory of how he loses a friend because of this relationship, his smile disappears.
Carefully, he removes the inlay, and his eyes glosses over lyrics that he know longer knows by heart, no longer knows by chord and riff. Even after asking himself the same question a million times, he is still unsure whether or not the brief moments of happiness with him were worth the many clashes and the harsh words that always came along. Sometimes even love isn’t that important, Shinji learns, but he still asks anyway. He still wonders if it was important enough to leave the band, to abandon the music he still holds dear.
There is no more need to question if it was worth losing his best friend; he already knows that it never was.
Turning toward the window, he sighs at the drops of rain collecting on the glass, concealing his view of the sky. It was raining that day too, he remembers, the day that friendship ended. So it is strange, really, how the rain pays him a visit again to watch their friendship start anew. Even stranger that it would come right on his wedding day.
Just then, Shinji remembers which box has the photo book he’s looking for. With one more cough at the dust bunnies guarding their territory, he opens the right box, and his line of sight says hello to the long unopened album of photographs. Running a sweater sleeve-covered hand over the leather surface, he carefully takes the album out and opens it, smiling at the pictures it reveals.
There she is - his beautiful wife. And there he is - his best man.
The same man standing beside him during her funeral.
With a smile, Shinji smoothes his fingertip over a random photo, right on the spot that has her face on it. He manages to do it before the teardrop that fell could ruin the fragile printed material. The sprinkling outside murmurs to him, and if he listens hard enough, he could hear her voice. He could hear their conversations - stories of their past and their plans for the future. Every ‘hello,’ every ‘I love you,’ and every ‘goodbye,’ especially her goodbyes; they all tug violently on his heartstrings. The warmth of her laughter gently pulls him in an embrace, and softly she repeats her vows.
With every breath he takes, he too reiterates his promises. “… Till death do us part.”
The drumming on his window tells Shinji that the rain is pouring harder. At the same time, the torrent in his chest slowly ceases. “I hope you’re right,” he says to one of her photographs before he closes the album.
Right on cue, someone opens the door. “Looks like Shinji left his door open again.”
“I’m here.” Shinji manages to gather himself before this someone could walk past the doorway and enter the living room. He doesn’t, however, have enough time to put the album back into its box. Not before he looks at his best friend walking into the room, into his life just when he needed him.
Even when Shinji doesn’t think he needs him, Yuu is always there.
The no longer lonely man that he is now flashes his old friend a grin. Yuu responds with a raised eyebrow. “Reminiscing?”
Shinji shakes his head. “Letting go.”
“Don’t,” his best friend answers him, chuckling, “she’d blame me.”
Shinji merely looks down, staring blankly at the book’s leather surface. He begins to taste the overly brewed bitterness of his smile seeping into his mouth, so he laughs it off. “I wonder if your wife is aware that you’re my first love.” Shinji says it like a joke but means it like an apology.
Yuu catches his sarcasm and shrugs it off his shoulders. “Yours probably always knew.”
Looking up from his living room floor, Shinji smiles at Yuu one more time, and he recounts one of the many conversations he remembers having with his wife. “You know, before I dated her, I told her that she was one of my best friends. She said that she always thought best friends were lovers in their past lives,” he says, “and fate just made it so they could encounter other souls.”
“If that’s the case,” Yuu replies, and by some sort of miracle, he echoes the exact same words she whispered to him right before she took her last breath. “I’m glad I got to meet you again in this lifetime.”
Laughing softly, Shinji simply nods in response. Words aren’t necessary to confirm that the feeling is mutual. He stands up from the sea of cardboard boxes, taking himself out before he drowns. At that he wonders how many times exactly Yuu has saved him.
Maybe this really is the best arrangement for them, he thinks. Perhaps it’s best that they aren’t romantically involved with each other. Being in love isn’t necessary for soulmates like them.
“Your usual black coffee?” Shinji offers, despite abhorring the stuff that the other man finds himself addicted to. He’s more of a tea person, really.
Yuu hums and smiles. “For old time’s sake,” he says, “I’ll have green tea.”
Taking careful steps over the boxes, Shinji makes his way toward the kitchen. He stops, however, and looks over his shoulder. “You know,” he starts, “I know for a fact that you never liked green tea. Why do you take it if you find it so disgusting?”
The other man coughs at the dusty cardboard lids that he proceeds to pick up. “I’m not telling you.”
Shinji pads to his kitchen, letting out a huff. Amidst the creaking floorboards on the hallway, he hears the rain. “Yeah, I know,” he whispers back to it, “everything is going to be okay.”