(no subject)
Title：Voiceless Fear
Author: Mugimugul
Genre: romance...... drabble ish
Pairing: Reituki
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: i think, if only i owned them, id be happy
Summary: Ruki's doubts and insecurities..... (i cant summarise! ><)
(A/N: i dont really like the ending tbh)
He hears the screams of his name as he exits the stage with the other members, one arm of their bassist slung across his shoulder casually, supportively, the repeated cheers of how great he had been ringing in his ears as he turns to flash a brief smile at the crowd.
His eyes are dark with anxiety as they meet Reita’s, the tilt of his lips faltering as he timidly tugs at the blonde’s vest, hesitant question obvious in his gaze. Reita stops, pulls him into a tight embrace, arms laced with a comforting assurance as he replies, with an absolute certainty, that yes, he had looked fine, great even.
“Where did that person who was out there with us on the stage, that amazing, confident Ruki we all know, where did he go?” Uruha asks teasingly, oblivious to the discomfort growing in him. Ruki smiles thinly, pressing close to Reita as he answers with an almost inaudible He’s not me.
And he wonders when-how- all this started; the insecurities, worries, doubts. He wonders when his self confidence first started to diminish, the peach coloured layers increasing more and more till his parents didn’t, and he almost couldn’t, recognise himself anymore. He doesn’t remember when it becomes taboo for him to leave the house without carefully styled hair and coats of makeup clogging his pores; doesn’t remember when choosing clothes became a matter of utmost precision and consideration; doesn’t remember when he had first felt so exposed, the fear seizing him, suffocating him if he even attempted to leave the house as he was. He knows he used to be happy- confident, assured, content. He knows he never used to have this fear, and he doesn’t understand, doesn’t remember, how it even started.
He thinks that maybe, it started when his parents had first shown signs of disagreement, the constant fights escalating till it had been suffocating, no longer possible trying to live under the same roof- he was seven, too young to understand, but old enough to have felt some responsibility for the break. He remembers the fear then, the uncertainty for the future, remembers thinking that if he was better, smarter, more beautiful, more obedient… If he wasn’t him, then maybe, maybe he’d know how to stop all these fighting. If he wasn’t him, then maybe, maybe they could remain happy forever.
But then he meets Reita, feels more than hears the raspy “You’re beautiful” against his lips in a breathy whisper. And he tries to believe it, wants so desperately to see the beauty in himself, but he’s not slathered in makeup and false appearances- he’s not Ruki, he’s simply Takanori, and he doesn’t understand how anyone can think that when all he can see is the flaws and imperfections, and nothing- nothing worth being called beautiful.
“You are, and always will be, Taka… It doesn’t matter if you’re Ruki or Takanori.” And Reita smiles, fingers gently caressing his face as he smoothes away the lone traitorous tears, soft murmurs of heartfelt, sincere truths breathed into his ear and Ruki finally feels it within- the strong twinge of belief and assurance he’s never thought he’d find.
And then he thinks, that maybe, maybe he was trying too, timidly reaching out to the world around him in his own little way, pleading, wanting for someone to save him from himself; trying to grasp a sense of stability and security from someone- anyone- who would save him. It had taken years, failing and retreating, the fear growing as countless attempts proved futile, but finally… finally, he found it. His personal saviour that came in the form of an incredulously silly Reita, and Ruki smiles, as he watches Reita chatter on animatedly, and finds that he wouldn’t change this, any of this, for anything in the world- especially not this being of pure light that shone his way amidst the engulfing darkness of his life.