「oo3」・・・Fanfiction→Mist and Shadow;
Title: Mist and Shadow
Chapters: oneshot
Author: leikochan14
Genre: angst
Warnings: character death
Disclaimer: ruki is his own person and is not owned by anyone but himself.
Rating: PG
Pairings/Characters: Uruki, Ruki-centric
Synopsis: Painful memories of Uruha filled Ruki's head one night and caused him more pain than he could handle.
Comments: at first i started thinking of writing this one way, but i stopped; then when i saw this picture (by peptric), i was inspired to write this story in this other way. it's focused on ruki and i apologize in advance for my rather depressive thoughts.
Winter was finally here; the snow flurries that made the young vocalist shiver as he walked around in his winter coat were more than enough proof. He quickened his pace when he eyed the nearby and inviting café right across the street.
Pulling the door wide open, he stepped inside, immediately warmed and relaxed by the smell of coffee. Finding a small, empty table he meandered over towards it. He shrugged off his jacket and brushed the snow that had landed on his black hat. Sitting down, he looked around the room, observing nothing that made up the place.
He disliked it; disliked the cold glances people shot in his direction, the overlapping voices, the clatter of plates, the clash of forks against the plates, everything. And, more than anything, he hated the fact that this place held some rather bitter memories of him and a certain 'friend.'
Ruki tried shaking away the memories of the past by shaking his head slightly and pulling out a small notebook he had in his bag. He wanted to forget, to forget everything related to the name "Uruha" but he couldn't easily do that for the memories of the other man clung to him and would not let go.
"You what?!" someone screamed.
Ruki looked up and towards the voice's owner, curious as to why they yelled. He saw a girl, younger, perhaps around 17 at the most, and tears were running down her face, a rather beautiful face at that, but there was also a flaming anger burning in her eyes. Following her gaze, Ruki found himself looking at a boy that was a little older than the girl, sitting in the seat with his gaze fixed to a "hole" in the ground.
"But, how? Why!" she whined, the anger almost dissolving as the sadness took it's place instead.
"I don't know," the boy murmured, shaking his head. "I don't know, but I'm sorry."
Ruki winced when he heard her slap him; he knew the boy probably deserved it, but it seemed painful, nonethless.
"Fuck you," the girl hissed and grabbed her things before rushing out the door. The boy bit his lower lip slightly, looking around to see the people's stares, before getting up and walking out as well, almost no pain shown on his face.
Ruki somehow, as cruel as it seemed, wished for that. He truly longed for the ability not to feel any remorse or sadness, but, alas, he was forced all of these emotions and was almost exploding with them. He wanted to end it, to end the pain, the suffering he felt.
Ruki found himself hunched over the desk at home hours later, a mechanical pencil in hand, scribbling words, a lot of words that seemed to flow endlessly through is head. He wrote and wrote, scribbling, scribbling, erasing, and rewriting, sighing as the words didn't seem to stop flowing even though his hand ached.
Why? came a cry from what seemed to be another person, but there wasn't anyone else there; He was alone and he immediately realized it was his own self that had cried that out.
"Why?" he asked again, his hand still not listening to him as it kept moving across the paper with the pencil.
"Why?!" he sobbed almost, tears starting to sting his eyes and blur his vision, but that didn't stop his hand from moving.
It was almost as if it had taken a life of his own, and the hand kept going despite Ruki's effort to make it stop, to make it all stop, to stop right now before the memories flooded him again, as they did every single night since that day, that dreadful and agonizingly painful day where he felt his heart had been torn out of his chest.
When he finally felt his hand stop, he looked at the paper, only to crumple it up, not daring to read a word. He tossed it to the other end of the room without caring where the scrap of paper landed, and he slumped over the desk completely, sobbing loudly as memories filled his head and made the hole in his chest throb with pain.
Uruha pulled back, slowly, his lips lingering over Ruki's own soft, pink ones.
"I'm sorry," he said before getting up.
Ruki blinked, quickly snapping out of his daze and looked up at the guitarist who seemed rather eager to leave already. "For what?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.
Uruha looked back down at Ruki with a small frown on his face, a frown that seemed to have all the answers. He gave Ruki a small smile, "You should know."
Tears seemed to want to come out, and Ruki wished that they would for he would at least have a small way to make the other feel guilty about what he was doing, but the tears stayed in their place, not making their presence known to the other man. He seemed to have lost his voice as well, and instead sat there at the small café's table, the coffee long forgotten.
"I guess." He finally managed to mutter, but in his attempt to sound cold, Ruki ended up sounding rather pathetic as his voice trembled a bit.
"I'll see ya later then?"
Ruki simply nodded and the other seemed pleased enough with the result of everything.
When the other finally did leave the café, Ruki looked down at his reflection in the brown drink, whispering 'i love you,' a single tear slipping from his eyes.
Ruki suddenly found himself on the ground, tears were thick and heavy as they ran down his face, smearing the little make-up he did use on those off days from work.
He hated this, oh how he hated this. All of it, he was tired of it; sick from all of the pain and wanting to curl up and die whenever he saw those two together. He didn't mind it as much at first, but then he grew tired of their love, hating everything about it, wanting it to be only him and Uruha, not Uruha and the other man. No!, he cried, no!
But his voice could not reach anyone and he was left to deal with the pain by himself.
"I want it..."
Ruki looked at the silver, the pure and wonderful silver piece, something that would bring him peace, end all his sufferings, once and for all.
"...to..."
He sat down and started to drag the sharp object across his wrist, wincing as he did so, because it stung, but it felt like nothing he had ever felt before.
The blood slipped through, barely coming out of his wrist at first, before it came out in rivers. It stained his entire arm a bright red color before dripping down to the wood floor, the floor where he would spend the rest of the night as he bled himself dry.
"...end."
A/N: wow. that turned into something i didn't really expect. erm, i'm not used to killing characters at all, so i'm sorry if it turned out rather bad.
as for what ruki was writing, let's just say it could have been a song or a suicide note or something, but i'll leave that up to you.
sad, i really want to write some true yaoi fics instead of just these types. maybe next year. as for now, Merry Christmas everyone.
Chapters: oneshot
Author: leikochan14
Genre: angst
Warnings: character death
Disclaimer: ruki is his own person and is not owned by anyone but himself.
Rating: PG
Pairings/Characters: Uruki, Ruki-centric
Synopsis: Painful memories of Uruha filled Ruki's head one night and caused him more pain than he could handle.
Comments: at first i started thinking of writing this one way, but i stopped; then when i saw this picture (by peptric), i was inspired to write this story in this other way. it's focused on ruki and i apologize in advance for my rather depressive thoughts.
Winter was finally here; the snow flurries that made the young vocalist shiver as he walked around in his winter coat were more than enough proof. He quickened his pace when he eyed the nearby and inviting café right across the street.
Pulling the door wide open, he stepped inside, immediately warmed and relaxed by the smell of coffee. Finding a small, empty table he meandered over towards it. He shrugged off his jacket and brushed the snow that had landed on his black hat. Sitting down, he looked around the room, observing nothing that made up the place.
He disliked it; disliked the cold glances people shot in his direction, the overlapping voices, the clatter of plates, the clash of forks against the plates, everything. And, more than anything, he hated the fact that this place held some rather bitter memories of him and a certain 'friend.'
Ruki tried shaking away the memories of the past by shaking his head slightly and pulling out a small notebook he had in his bag. He wanted to forget, to forget everything related to the name "Uruha" but he couldn't easily do that for the memories of the other man clung to him and would not let go.
"You what?!" someone screamed.
Ruki looked up and towards the voice's owner, curious as to why they yelled. He saw a girl, younger, perhaps around 17 at the most, and tears were running down her face, a rather beautiful face at that, but there was also a flaming anger burning in her eyes. Following her gaze, Ruki found himself looking at a boy that was a little older than the girl, sitting in the seat with his gaze fixed to a "hole" in the ground.
"But, how? Why!" she whined, the anger almost dissolving as the sadness took it's place instead.
"I don't know," the boy murmured, shaking his head. "I don't know, but I'm sorry."
Ruki winced when he heard her slap him; he knew the boy probably deserved it, but it seemed painful, nonethless.
"Fuck you," the girl hissed and grabbed her things before rushing out the door. The boy bit his lower lip slightly, looking around to see the people's stares, before getting up and walking out as well, almost no pain shown on his face.
Ruki somehow, as cruel as it seemed, wished for that. He truly longed for the ability not to feel any remorse or sadness, but, alas, he was forced all of these emotions and was almost exploding with them. He wanted to end it, to end the pain, the suffering he felt.
Ruki found himself hunched over the desk at home hours later, a mechanical pencil in hand, scribbling words, a lot of words that seemed to flow endlessly through is head. He wrote and wrote, scribbling, scribbling, erasing, and rewriting, sighing as the words didn't seem to stop flowing even though his hand ached.
Why? came a cry from what seemed to be another person, but there wasn't anyone else there; He was alone and he immediately realized it was his own self that had cried that out.
"Why?" he asked again, his hand still not listening to him as it kept moving across the paper with the pencil.
"Why?!" he sobbed almost, tears starting to sting his eyes and blur his vision, but that didn't stop his hand from moving.
It was almost as if it had taken a life of his own, and the hand kept going despite Ruki's effort to make it stop, to make it all stop, to stop right now before the memories flooded him again, as they did every single night since that day, that dreadful and agonizingly painful day where he felt his heart had been torn out of his chest.
When he finally felt his hand stop, he looked at the paper, only to crumple it up, not daring to read a word. He tossed it to the other end of the room without caring where the scrap of paper landed, and he slumped over the desk completely, sobbing loudly as memories filled his head and made the hole in his chest throb with pain.
Uruha pulled back, slowly, his lips lingering over Ruki's own soft, pink ones.
"I'm sorry," he said before getting up.
Ruki blinked, quickly snapping out of his daze and looked up at the guitarist who seemed rather eager to leave already. "For what?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.
Uruha looked back down at Ruki with a small frown on his face, a frown that seemed to have all the answers. He gave Ruki a small smile, "You should know."
Tears seemed to want to come out, and Ruki wished that they would for he would at least have a small way to make the other feel guilty about what he was doing, but the tears stayed in their place, not making their presence known to the other man. He seemed to have lost his voice as well, and instead sat there at the small café's table, the coffee long forgotten.
"I guess." He finally managed to mutter, but in his attempt to sound cold, Ruki ended up sounding rather pathetic as his voice trembled a bit.
"I'll see ya later then?"
Ruki simply nodded and the other seemed pleased enough with the result of everything.
When the other finally did leave the café, Ruki looked down at his reflection in the brown drink, whispering 'i love you,' a single tear slipping from his eyes.
Ruki suddenly found himself on the ground, tears were thick and heavy as they ran down his face, smearing the little make-up he did use on those off days from work.
He hated this, oh how he hated this. All of it, he was tired of it; sick from all of the pain and wanting to curl up and die whenever he saw those two together. He didn't mind it as much at first, but then he grew tired of their love, hating everything about it, wanting it to be only him and Uruha, not Uruha and the other man. No!, he cried, no!
But his voice could not reach anyone and he was left to deal with the pain by himself.
"I want it..."
Ruki looked at the silver, the pure and wonderful silver piece, something that would bring him peace, end all his sufferings, once and for all.
"...to..."
He sat down and started to drag the sharp object across his wrist, wincing as he did so, because it stung, but it felt like nothing he had ever felt before.
The blood slipped through, barely coming out of his wrist at first, before it came out in rivers. It stained his entire arm a bright red color before dripping down to the wood floor, the floor where he would spend the rest of the night as he bled himself dry.
"...end."
A/N: wow. that turned into something i didn't really expect. erm, i'm not used to killing characters at all, so i'm sorry if it turned out rather bad.
as for what ruki was writing, let's just say it could have been a song or a suicide note or something, but i'll leave that up to you.
sad, i really want to write some true yaoi fics instead of just these types. maybe next year. as for now, Merry Christmas everyone.