The Adventures of Nowhere Man and Whiskey Boy [as told by No One], 3/??, Reita/Aoi
Title: The Adventures of Nowhere Man and Whiskey Boy [as told by No One]
Author: losseflame
Chapters: 3/??
Genre: Romance, angst, drama, humor
Warnings: language, use (and abuse) of alcohol, sexual innuendo, illicit substances
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Reita/Aoi, Reita/Uruha (friendship)
Synopsis: In which Nowhere Man meets Whiskey Boy, and adventures ensue. Or in Layman's terms, the social wavelengths of Akira and Yuu.
Comments: This is….way overdue. D8 I promise I’ll be better, I will!
***
The Third Act, or in Layman’s Terms, Part 3
.:.:.:.
Yuu’s hands are tangled in Yune’s hair and Yune’s tongue is down Yuu’s throat and goddamn moving or some crazy shit and their hips are grinding and pressed against the counter and Akira is shocked, flabbergasted and seriously, what the fucking fuck?
There’s a sort of roaring in Akira’s ears and a tingling in the tips of his fingers and his muscles are all frozen and as useful as shit and there’s this goddamn swelling of something rising up inside and pressing against his ribs and his heart and squeezing and he doesn’t even know.
Because there is Yuu. And there is Yune. And there is Yuu and Yune and that suddenly has a different meaning than it did before and Akira just can’t deal with this shit.
They haven’t even noticed him yet, and Akira stutters as Yuu lets out a moan that rushes through Akira’s veins like fire. His muscles unfreeze all at once and he can’t for the life of him stop the necklace (the stupid necklace that goddamn Takanori thought would look good on Yuu and just decided to send him to give to Yuu, and look how well that turned out?) from falling to the floor with a noise that’s way too fucking noticeable.
The couple starts and jumps apart like they were electrocuted to give horrified (and glazed, the small, malicious part of his mind - that sounds oddly like Kouyou - lust glazed) and seeing the mirrored looks on their faces makes the feeling shrink and curdle in the base of Akira’s stomach.
His face is burning and it almost feels like anger only it doesn’t, and he’s breathing wildly because there just doesn’t seem to be enough air in the room and he doesn’t particularly feel like fainting.
Yuu starts to angle towards him, Akira’s name forming on his lips that are red and kiss swollen.
Akira turns tail and bolts, excess saliva in his throat from the burst of nausea that swept him.
He manages to yank the bathroom door open and get inside just in time to hunch over the toilet and puke.
He almost feels betrayed, which is stupid because it’s none of his business what gender Yuu likes fucking because it doesn’t matter anyway, but it does and just, fuck.
Akira leans away, falling against the wall and closing his eyes. But all he sees is Yuu’s hands and lips trying to say his name so he opens them again.
He’s still there trying to think about nothing when Yuu opens the door tentatively. Akira swallows reflexively, seeing the hair so clearly finger-combed into a semblance of neatness.
Yuu, not getting a shoe to the face or whatever he was expecting (really, the expression was about eleven different kinds of foreboding, and what the hell did he think Akira would do, anyway?) walks in and sits himself down next to Akira.
Akira stares at Yuu, waiting for something to be said (because fuck being the big one in this. Akira refuses to be the one to kill the goddamn elephant.) and Yuu just sort of shoots Akira a look and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something before closing it and looking forwards again, releasing a harsh sigh. Yuu’s lips are pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows are all frowny and shit and -
Really? Yuu’s angry?
Akira tries to process this new level of what-the-shit as Yuu’s deeply suppressed rage and Akira’s flailing confusion and nausea and self-identity issues simmers in the silence that reigns supreme in the shitty live-house bathroom.
“So, this is what Kouyou calls ‘not discriminatory’?” The silence abdicates in favour of the sheer force of hurt in Yuu’s question.
So Yuu isn’t angry. He’s hurt.
…Which actually doesn’t clear anything up at all, so what the hell?
“Are you going to respond?” Now Yuu turns to face Akira, but keeps the distance between them, which is weird, because Yuu is really touch-feely and also he sort of looks like he’s about to cry. Akira feels a spike of panic maybe mixed with the urge to beat up whoever made Yuu cry, which would be acceptable if it weren’t for the fact that Akira had the sneaking suspicion that he’d be beating himself up.
Only…
“I think we’re tuning into two different radio stations, here. I really have no idea what you’re saying.”
Yuu’s jaw drops, his eyes narrowing even as they start to fill. “Holy fuck, Akira. Just…Jesus mother of fuck.”
And with that eloquent phrase, Yuu gets up and totters towards the doors, his shoulders hunching and a hand going to cover his mouth.
Shit. Just, goddamn and fuck and flaming mother of all unholy balls of assbutt.
Akira seems to be getting into the horrible habit of making his friends cry lately.
At least he knew why he had caused Takanori’s emotional breakdown.
He’s sort of left in the dark here. Only not really, because he’s getting that horrible feeling you get when something is really obvious but your mental capacity of a teaspoon doesn’t allow you answers.
The crowd’s cheers ricochet around the sudden absence of sound within the bathroom, and Akira listening to the quick pitter-patter of Takanori’s footsteps as he runs down the hall. Takanori whips the door open, screams something along the lines of ‘get your ass on stage or I’ll chop off your balls and feed them to the Chihuahua I’ll buy specifically to eat your balls’ hysterically before going off to verbally beat the other band mates towards the stage.
Akira’s quite sure that the Gazette needs a less neurotic leader.
.:.:.:.
The sudden revelation comes just as Akira is doing his solo. It’s all lightbulb-y and shocking and slightly horrific as everything just becomes clear, and his fingers stumble over the chords, screwing things up hopelessly.
Takanori gives him a look as he covers with a burst of vocal, his eyes the doorways to fire and brimstone and a mad, frothing rage Akira just knows is about to be directed at him. Takanori flounces towards him, a seductive smile on his lips and his eyebrows knit in a frown, the crowd screams in gay-obsessed neuroticism and fuck, he’s screwed. Takanori walks closer and closer until Akira would just have to turn his head and they’d be making out, Takanori’s lips brushing the shell of his eye as he sings.
Takanori smashes his foot down on Akira’s instep. Fucking hard.
But, hell, Akira has like a thousand abusive older siblings who have extreme hormonal changes once a month, so he just groans through gritted teeth and swivels his head to look for Yuu, his fingers playing the music subconsciously at this point.
Yuu is not looking at him. He is looking at Kouyou with a stiff neck, and it’s a little obvious - what with the extreme intensity that Yuu is looking at Kouyou in the first place - that it’s only to avoid looking at Akira.
And, yeah, Akira figures he deserves that.
The rest of the live is a blur, mainly because Akira really isn’t focused on it, like, at all.
He’s instead focusing on the tense lines of Yuu’s shoulders and wonders if it’s not too late for him to grovel his way to forgiveness.
.:.:.:.
“What the fuck was that, Suzuki? What the fucking fuck was that?” Takanori ambushes him the moment they’re offstage, Kouyou hovering by to desperately attempt to distract Takanori and let Akira escape.
Normally Akira would be trembling in his bootstraps, if he had bootstraps, which you know, he doesn’t, but…but honestly Akira doesn’t really care about Taka’s rage right now. He’s more focused on finding Yuu and clearing up the little miscommunication that yeah, is all Akira’s fault, he isn’t going to deny.
Yuu walks past the spectacle that Takanori is making of himself, firmly focused on the floor in front of him. Akira squawks, flailing after him.
“Taka, I promise I’ll let you domestically abuse me later, but right now I have more important shit to get to.” He runs after Yuu, ignoring Takanori’s shell shocked look.
Kouyou places his hand on Takanori’s shoulder. “Look at him, running about. Our boy’s growing up.” He smiles and leads Takanori to the dressing room as Takanori gurgles incoherently.
.:.:.:.
“Yuu!” The namesake’s shoulders hunch up to his ears and he walks faster down the hallway, even as Akira runs after him desperately, waving his arms. “Yuu! No, wait! Yuuyuuyuuyuuyuuyuu!”
Akira collides into Yuu, ignoring the cursing as he grabs Yuu’s shoulders and makes him face Akira.
“I have come to explain, okay?” Yuu glares at him, which Akira takes as an ‘I’m listening of my own accord’, and continues. “I’m not going to lie, I probably sounded and looked like a giant homophobic ass right there, I know. But I’m not. You’re my friend and I love you and Kouyou could probably out-gay you in your sleep anyway, ignore what I said before that please.” Akira flutters his hands to make his point. Yuu looks flustered. “I honestly, really don’t care which set of genitals, if any, you’re attracted to. I don’t know why I reacted that way, probably because of inner turmoil issues, but. God. I’m supportive of your relationship. I just sort of came off as a dickweed because I’m an idiot. Please forgive me.”
Yuu looks at him, raising an eyebrow. Akira attempts to smile charmingly. Yuu sighs. “You’re right. You are an idiot.” He smiles softly. “But I do forgive you.”
Akira lets out a breath. “That’s awesome. That’s supreme. Whoo. Okay.” He lets go of Yuu’s shoulders and steps back.
“What else did you say though?” Yuu’s smile turns into a sinister grin.
“Hmm?”
“You said something in your tirade, I think. Something about ‘I love you’…?” Yuu’s eyes are devious. Akira swallows.
“Well, you know, that was - I thought I asked you to ignore that? Heat of the moment, okay?”
“No, nope, you can’t take that back once you’ve said it.”
Akira blushes and turns around to walk back.
“You love me!”
“I said nothing!” He shouts this back as Yuu erupts into giggles that make him sound about six.
“Suzuki Akira loves me!” Yuu singsongs this, and Akira hunches his shoulder.
“You’re dreaming, Yuu, dreaming very lucidly.”
“No take backs, ‘Kira. You love me, Shiroyama Yuu.”
Akira turns around to look back at the end of the hall where Yuu stands grinning, and sticks out his tongue.
He then walks back to his dressing room, his ears red, and he doesn’t see or hear Yuu’s smile mellow into something quieter, something sweeter, as he repeats to himself: “Suzuki Akira loves me.”
.:.:.:.
And yeah, okay, it’s not like Akira expected everything to be a-o- fucking-kay after all that shit, but he at least expected for his little totally unimportant feelings of reservation to be laid to rest.
Because he doesn’t give a shit, really, who Yuu bangs.
Except for when he does, apparently, because now instead of being just piss terrified of Yune he’s piss terrified of and just a little pissed of at for no good reason at Yune. (Judging from the looks Yune has been giving him lately, the fucker can smell it and has interpreted this at a challenge to his manliness. Akira makes very damn sure to never be alone in a room with him, because Jesus fuck.)
Akira has never been too good at this introspective bullshit, but he can recognize when he’s feeling unwarranted possessiveness. That shit hasn’t happened since Kouyou got his first girlfriend - because apparently Kouyou was of the opinion that if he could get pussy he’d start to like it just like he father wanted - and Akira decided to have an identity crisis in retaliation.
So now it’s 2:00 in the morning and a week after Yuu fell out of the closet in front of Akira’s feet, because Akira is not in a closet, has no reason to be even near one, because he is firm and absolute in his sexual orientation.
Except for sort of not really.
Akira sighs and rolls onto his side, tempted to crush his pillow over his head and hopefully destroy any lingering stray thoughts about… Pretty much everything, because everything fucking sucks. He flips his phone open and stares at the screen, contemplating that perhaps he should call someone and present his case.
But Ruki is so genderblind he wouldn’t see the problem, Kouyou would just ask if Akira wanted to sleep with him to confirm (and just no. Motherfucking no.), Yune would probably solve the problem by ripping off Akira’s dick and shoving it down his throat while screaming ‘Do you like it, bitch?! DO YOU?!’, and Akira can actually feel his testicles crawl back up into his body and die of fear whenever he thinks about taking his problem to Yuu.
This leaves him with one option and one option only.
Akira dials Jenna’s number and hopes that she’s an insomniac.
“Somebody better be dying.” Jenna’s voice is rough as she snarls this down the phone in her cutely accented Japanese. Akira feels Akira Junior pick up at the sound, because her voice gets rough like that for other reasons, but he grinds his palm over his crotch to ward off the blood flowing there.
“I’m having a gay identity crisis, so my self image of heterosexuality is dying a slow and painful death and I just sort of am freaking out a little. Bit. Freaking out a little bit.” Akira’s voice is so high it sounds like his voice hasn’t broke yet, and he hears Jenna shift into a sitting position.
“Okay, well.” She pauses. “Oh shit, it wasn’t me, was it?”
“NO. No. You had nothing to do with my budding issues. You’re lovely in bed.” Akira says, flailing his arms before remembering that she can’t see them.
“Well then. Okay, so.” Jenna starts again. “On a level of one to Gackt, how homosexual have the images you’ve been jerking off to been?”
She sounds completely serious, and Akira feels any hope of intelligent aid die alongside his soul. “It’s not like that, I mean, I’ve just. There’s this guy. In my band -”
“The one with long black hair? I called that. The only way he could look gayer is if he wore a sparkly pink boa.”
“Anyway. And I’ve just never. Felt that. Towards guys. Before. And I’m really not sure if I’m completely okay with that.” Akira finishes.
“There’s nothing wrong with it. There’s nothing wrong with you, Akira. Okay?” Jenna’s voice is strong and serious as she says this. “What you’re feeling is nothing bad.”
Akira winces, because for all of his open-mindedness, she really did hit the problem on the metaphorical nail with a metaphorical sledgehammer. “I know that.” He doesn’t completely, because there’s always something wrong with him, he’s Akira, which is pretty much a synonym for ‘deadbeat jackass who would be going nowhere if it weren’t for his sheep like attitude’ and you might as well tack on ‘flaming homosexual’ to the end anyway. He can tell from Jenna’s sigh that she doesn’t believe him, but she doesn’t call him out on it either. “I just don’t know what to do.” His voice is stupidly young, and he winces.
“Ask him out. Make it clear you’re experimenting.” She says this like it’s obvious.
“He’s in a relationship. With someone who hates me.” Okay, he’s not sure if Yune hates him, per say, but neither can Akira deem Yune’s feelings towards him as anything better than ‘extreme and unwarranted dislike mixed with malicious intent’.
“Oh. Okay. Well then, let’s just go gay barhopping sometime, and you can pick up a one night stand with a dick.” Jenna has a grin in her voice - and shit, Akira thought Yuu was the only one with the ability to make his voice portray a facial expression, but the things you learn, he supposes - and she ends the statement with a purr that announces that the porn she watches has a distinct rainbow flavour.
Akira’s shoulders rise valiantly to meet his ears in a union born of embarrassment. “I was thinking that maybe you could just swing by and we could have repression sex, or something.”
Jenna sighs loudly. “I’m not pushing you farther into the closet with my vagina, Akira. I simply can’t bang a questioning dude in good conscious. It’d be a pity fuck. Like if you were a starving Third World child in need of a sexual orientation and I was a World Vision worker.”
“So what do I do then?” Akira asks, his voice quiet.
“You deal, bro. You be supportive of your bandmate’s relationship however you can - because all homewreckers are dirty sluts, and if you become one I’ll destroy you - and maybe you experiment, maybe you don’t.”
“That’s it?” It’s a little less climactic than Akira was expecting. No sudden rises of orchestral music or dramatic rage-screams towards the sky. Quite boring, really.
“That’s it.” Jenna says warmly. “Now I’m going to go back to bed, because it’s three in the fucking morning and not even Satan’s awake.”
With that, she hangs up, leaving Akira with a dial tone and a game plan.
.:.:.:.
Really, after Akira’s attention was drawn towards Yune and Yuu - Yuu and Yune, what the fuck ever - it boggles his admittedly small mind that he hadn’t noticed them beforehand.
They’re all secret looks and subtle touches and shit, and really, good God, it’s fucking obvious now that he knows.
And so begins Operation: Be An Awesome Straight Friend. Also known as B.A.A.S.F.
It’s a routine that is well practiced after years of friendship with Kouyou - who is not a contestant for the crown of responsibility even when he’s sober - and Akira falls into it with relief that is born of knowing that a problem is officially solved.
Sort of.
He starts taking Yuu’s portion of band-related work - he even offered to do Yune’s, because Akira is basically Mother Teresa with squintier eyes and more protruding genitilia, except Yune gave him a Look and Akira decided that was a no - and locking up the studio behind everyone after practice when it’s Yuu or Yune’s turn.
Akira has learned after Kouyou’s first few dives into relationships that more time for dates (read: sex) means better moods, which means better relationships with people you aren’t having sex with, which means just generally everyone is happier.
That, and Akira figures making more time for Yune and Yuu to get it on is pretty much synonymous for supporting the shit out of a friend’s relationship.
Jenna would be proud.
Takanori gave him weird looks the first couple times Akira did so, but Akira did his best to bring him coffee in the morning and compliment his ugly-as-shit Chihuahua when he brought it to practice, which is enough to guarantee a shield from Takanori’s next explosion of midget wrath and most of his questions, too.
Kouyou just raises his eyebrows in an irritatingly knowing manner and ignores the proceedings, preferring to focus on his nails or his thighs instead of enlightening Akira with his clearly amazing bit of knowledge.
Akira decides to suppress the urge to strangle him.
And yeah, he’s not going to say he’s happy with the way things are - he and Yuu had stopped going out to dinner, which basically means that Akira’s missing out on one of his best friend’s company - but other people are, and that’s really all that matters in the end anyway.
But apparently not really, because after about three weeks of this, after practice and before Akira can go around locking things up for Yune, Yuu grabs Akira’s arm and hauls him into the wheelchair washroom, locking the door behind them.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Yuu asks. “Why are you being so…weirdly nice? Are you on something? No, better question: why are you being so weirdly nice yet for some reason still avoiding me? I thought we were over the fact that I’m gay.” His eyes narrow and he puts one elbow on his hip and cocks it even as his expression goes vulnerable. “You are over it, right?”
Akira flails, because this was not the way it was supposed to go down, like, at all. But everything he does goes so pear-shaped he might as well call it a fruit. “I, okay, there was nothing to get over! I’m being nice! I’m being supportive of your relationship! I’m making more time for you and Yune to -” He falters for a moment, twitching his fingers significantly, before continuing. “Well, you know. That’s me B.A.A.S.F-ing”
Yuu raises an eyebrow in a way that clearly implies Akira is not sober nor sane. And quite possibly has been drinking lighter fluid. Akira feels the need to explain. “Being an awesome straight friend.”
He continues shuffling and waving his hands for a few moments after he’s done talking, and Yuu stares at him open-mouthed. Before he just shakes his head and turns his face away from Akira, as one hand pinches the bridge of his nose and the other moves to almost make a shield between Yuu and Akira.
Akira is, to put it subtly, betwixt and befuddled and also quite possibly baffled. “I - okay, now what did I do?”
A sigh. A very long, drawn out sigh. “Nothing, Akira, you didn’t do anything. It’s just - it’s not like that. Romantic, I mean.”
Which throws Akira in for something of a loop. “I…what?”
“It’s like you and Jenna. Not really, you know, committed.” He gives Akira a look, like ‘please don’t make me explain more, because sometimes I do get embarrassed’. And it’s not like the idea of casual sex is foreign to Akira, but it totally is when he thinks of it in relation to Yuu. He always thought that Yuu would be the kind of person to wait until he was in love and then commit only to them and just have a totally awesome sweet relationship because Yuu himself is awesome and sweet and that’s just the kind of relationship that awesome and sweet people have.
That’s just the way the world works.
And maybe Yuu is being really fucking serious or maybe he’s being subtle, but Akira feels the need to go with ‘subtle’ because it’s Yuu. The only thing Akira has been faced with that is more wrapped up in mystery and vagueness was Takanori trying to set him up on a blind date with a girl that had more cats than she had unnecessary weight, and she took up two seats on the subway. So he grins and gives a thumbs up. “Okay. I haven’t told anyone, though, so it’s cool. It is. Really.”
With overwhelming feelings of a job well done, he pats Yuu on the arm and ducks out of the washroom, ignoring Kouyou’s absolutely filthy smile from where he sits on the ground in front of said washroom’s door.
Because Kouyou may find it hot to rub sausages in motherfucking public washrooms, but Akira has always preferred things like beds and cleanliness when it comes to sex.
But maybe that’s just him.
.:.:.:.
Later on he sees Yuu and Yune quietly leaning together in the parking lot, cigarette smoke curling around them much like Akira imagines their feelings of affection are, if he feels like sounding like a fucking tween girl.
Which he doesn’t, so he moves on quickly, quashing the slight twinge in his chest that is most definitely not jealous, because real men are only jealous when there’s something to be jealous over. And there isn’t.
.:.:.:.
So maybe Akira’s too much of a fucking optimist, but he’d like to think that actually every once in a while when he tries to make things better they stayed that way. Which, of course not, they never would, but it still doesn’t mean he feels just a tad hopeless and quite possibly overwhelmed with feelings he’s not quite sure when he got them when it becomes clear that Yuu and Yune’s relationship starts to go down the shitter. He’s become adept at seeing the collateral damage that fights leave in daily interactions, from between his mother and father, between Ruki and his parental units, between Kouyou and every single one of his significant others before he developed anti-monogamous feelings. Akira is not sure when he started thinking Yuu was important enough to notice these sort of things, but that little strand of wonderment is eclipsed by the hard looks Yune gives Yuu, by the way Yuu hunches his shoulders and glares right back. Yuu starts to show up to practice less often, and when he does, he is pale and shaking and his attention span is shot to shit, and even though Akira can’t see any visible bruises, he gives Yune hard looks and wonders if now is the time to gather his remaining testicular fortitude and kick the shit out of Yune. But Yune is so gentle when he talks to Yuu, even when neither of them will meet other’s eyes. There’s the same regret in his eyes that Akira’s dad had right before he went to a business trip and never came back, and it really should surprise Akira less when Yune makes his grand announcement.
He’s going to medical school. Three weeks from now.
Takanori flushes and his fists clench and he spits the words “Thank you for playing with us.” like venomous weapons, and Akira can see in his eyes the fall from glory.
Because they were this close. And they can’t do it without a drummer.
Yuu isn’t there for the announcement, but Akira gets the feeling that he already knows.
.:.:.:.
Yuu doesn’t answer his - just his, now, no longer Yune’s - door when Akira knocks for about five fucking minutes, but Akira just thanks the fact that Kouyou used to be on the school’s trouble list and knew how to jimmy a lock, because he taught Akira so it’s not a big deal to let himself in.
The apartment smells like bleach and rotting fruit, and it’s deceptively empty.
The only thing in the fridge is spoiled milk and bags of stuff Akira doesn’t want to think about, and he finds needles on the kitchen table.
He closes his eyes and goes to look for Yuu.
Yuu is crouched inside a linen closet, and looks up with red rimmed eyes when Akira opens the door.
“What are you doing?” Akira keeps his voice gentle.
“Sitting in a closet.” Yuu’s voice is dull.
“Can I join you?” Akira asks, still quiet. Yuu slides over, which Akira takes as a yes. It’s cramped and uncomfortable, and as Akira closes the door it goes black again.
Akira thinks about asking about the needles, but he doesn’t need to.
“I’m addicted to heroin.” Yuu says, his voice breaking. “Yune was my dealer, and now I - now I can’t -” His voice breaks open and releases a sob.
Akira reaches out and grabs Yuu’s hand, which is cold and limp in his. “Okay, Yuu, okay.”
And then they sit, Yuu’s world falling apart and Akira determined to hold it together.
***
A/N: And there you go~