evil bunny strikes back
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz Glühen/ Kyou Kara Maou crossover
Warnings: yaoi, ANGSTY and bloody depressing
Characters/couples: Mamoru (Omi)/ Yuuri, Shibuya Shouri, Takatori Saijou (Mamoru's grandfather)
Rating: varies, PG-13 for language and sexual themes
Notes: Well, that backfired, didn't it?. Damn you allira_dream, but most of all, damn you bunny! *shakes fist* XO
So yeah, various snippets, not really in chronological order, only posted here so I have them in one place.
sans titre
Mamoru's voice is still soft and friendly, and when he closes his eyes, Yuuri can almost believe the last few years were a bad dream. Therefore he feels all the more betrayed when his bedroom voice is so harsh and demanding.
A hickey, though embaressing, has always been a point of some pride for them in the past. Now however, Mamoru gets irritated when Yuuri leaves a mark. He doesn't shout, doesn't get verbal at all, just meets Yuuri with stony silence so intense it makes him flinch almost as if he'd been struck.
Exhaustion
It's always the same.
They always meet in luxurious hotel room Mamoru pays for. Expensive, luxurious, impersonal. He always wears his best suits, although he despises them, hates the way the very fabric seems to confine him and force him into an upright and arrogant posture. But the suits are an unseen barrier that still lingers, even if they've been shed the moment the door has fallen shut behind them.
The old expensive scotch Mamoru drinks is bitter and harsh to the tongue. He doesn't care for it much, but he knows Yuuri is sickened by the taste even more. It prevents the kisses from becoming too soft, too emotional.
Looking at Yuuri like this is hard, more difficult that any of the tasks he's performed as Persia and Mamoru wonders what this says about him.
Yuuri's dark eyes are always open, always searching for something in him that Mamoru himself believes to have lost a long time ago. He's forgotten how to be tender, compassionate and kind, but only barely. The memory is lurking right underneath the surface as if only covered with fresh new skin still, raw and pink and easily broken.
Mamoru knows he can reall those feelings if he just permits himself to, but he also knows it would break him. And not only him, but Yuuri aswell.
So what is he doing here?
Every time they're done with each other, Mamoru considers asking Yuuri to stay, but most of the times he just leaves before the words come out. The other times he waits too long and Yuuri slips out of the room first.
His "goodbye"s are soft, yet detatched, his physical exhaustion no match for the emotional fatigue he feels.
Chess
His grandfather's study is dark, imposing in it's traditional Japanese architechture, filled with expensive antiques. Like the chess board, a 17th century rarity with artfully carved pieces. The white king has always drawn Mamoru in, because the artist's skill is particularly obvious it's almost lifelike features, the way even a twirl in the piece's moustache is fashioned in the most minute detail. To Mamoru, this piece is a symbol of the game itsself, the very culmination of his efforts. Ironic how he keeps striving to take it yet never can, a frustration that exceeds the game in so many ways.
The chessboard has taught him several valuable lessons in the past years, like how not all lives have the same value, and it continues teaching him.
There is a dull clacking sound as Saijou sets down a bishop before his queen.
"You're not paying attention, Mamoru."
Mamoru has learned to suppress his emotinal responses early on.
"Sorry, Oujii-sama." He scans the board for his next move, but he has already forgotten his plan of attack.
"You will have to put this teacher out of your mind."
This time Mamoru can't hold in a gasp of surprise. Until now he'd believed he had been careful enough when planning his meetings with Yuuri.
"This old man is not blind and deaf yet."
Mamoru remains silent. He has defied his grandfather before, during the incident at the Kowa Academy, but he paid the price afterwards.
"What do you hope to accomplish by seeing him again?"
Mamoru bites his lip, the metallic taste of blood soon trickling into his mouth. Still, his grandfather isn't looking at him, old eyes intently studying the chess game, while his calm question delivers the pretense of desinterest.
"Do you really believe he loves you for who you are? He loves the Tsukiyono Omi from his past. Mamoru is a stranger to him."
The younger man's eyes focuss on the the white king's face again as he concedes: "He hates Mamoru."
In the twilight, the piece seems to be mocking him with its arrogant smile.
Monster I have become
"But then we'll also have to consider the company's stance on...."
Mamoru's words are interrupted as the conference room door is thrown wide open and a tall man he knows only too well storms in through the door, followed by half of his security staff. Meanwhile his business partners stare blankly at the intruder.
"I'm sorry Mamoru-sama, we couldn't stop him. We'll have him out in a second." His personal assistant appologises, but he merely raises a hand to stop the bodyguards.
"Shouri-san." He says calmly, noding to the unexpected visitor in greeting. "I'm rather busy right now. I'd have appreciated if you'd made an appointment."
If looks could kill, Mamoru muses silently as he looks unblinkinly into the other's dark eyes, that are so similar to Yuuri's. The older man is incensed, he knows it, even though his face is set in stone. And he also knows his calm behaviour is making him more furious by the second.
Finally Mamoru sighs. If he wants to avoid an incident right here infront of the board of executives, he'll have to let Shouri speak his mind. Rising from his seat, he flashes an appologetic smile to the other people gathered around the table.
"Gentlemen, excuse me for a moment."
***
"I want you to stop seeing him."
Shouri demands as soon as the door of his office has closed behind them.
"It took a lot of courage coming here, Shouri-san, I'll give you that. Especially now that your company may merge with the Takatori group. A time when lots of unnesseary expenses are cut and people inevitably lose their livelihood."
Mamoru doesn't like the way his voice sounds in his own ears as he utters the subtle threat. Too calm and collected for his own taste. There's no way for the other to know it's an empty threat, but he surprises Mamoru by not flinching at all, still glowering down on him even as he moves to sit down behind his desk.
"I want you to stay away from him." Shouri even advances on him. "Yuuri's always been too soft for his own good. He believes in second chances. And although I don't understand why, he still loves you even after all you've done and are still doing to him. I'm sure this means nothing to you, but stop causing him more pain."
"Shouri-san" He forces his voice to become even colder and more distant. And it does, with much greater ease than Mamoru believed possible, but though his smile remains unchanged. "What your brother does or does not do is his choice and his choice alone."
"Fucking bastard." In a flash, Shouri has Mamoru by the collar. "It makes me sick that I once trusted you to make him happy."
The door opens to admit two of Mamoru's best bodyguards, two tall thugs, who look ready just about ready to snap the black-haired man's neck, if Mamoru told them to.
Seeing himself outnumbered, Shouri merely releases him and stalks towards the door, not seeing the gentle shake of the head Mamoru gives his escorts as streightens out his suit.
"Tell the board members I'll be right with them."
Once the door has closed and he's finally alone, he sinks down into his chair, staring up at the ceiling.
Warnings: yaoi, ANGSTY and bloody depressing
Characters/couples: Mamoru (Omi)/ Yuuri, Shibuya Shouri, Takatori Saijou (Mamoru's grandfather)
Rating: varies, PG-13 for language and sexual themes
Notes: Well, that backfired, didn't it?. Damn you allira_dream, but most of all, damn you bunny! *shakes fist* XO
So yeah, various snippets, not really in chronological order, only posted here so I have them in one place.
sans titre
Mamoru's voice is still soft and friendly, and when he closes his eyes, Yuuri can almost believe the last few years were a bad dream. Therefore he feels all the more betrayed when his bedroom voice is so harsh and demanding.
A hickey, though embaressing, has always been a point of some pride for them in the past. Now however, Mamoru gets irritated when Yuuri leaves a mark. He doesn't shout, doesn't get verbal at all, just meets Yuuri with stony silence so intense it makes him flinch almost as if he'd been struck.
Exhaustion
It's always the same.
They always meet in luxurious hotel room Mamoru pays for. Expensive, luxurious, impersonal. He always wears his best suits, although he despises them, hates the way the very fabric seems to confine him and force him into an upright and arrogant posture. But the suits are an unseen barrier that still lingers, even if they've been shed the moment the door has fallen shut behind them.
The old expensive scotch Mamoru drinks is bitter and harsh to the tongue. He doesn't care for it much, but he knows Yuuri is sickened by the taste even more. It prevents the kisses from becoming too soft, too emotional.
Looking at Yuuri like this is hard, more difficult that any of the tasks he's performed as Persia and Mamoru wonders what this says about him.
Yuuri's dark eyes are always open, always searching for something in him that Mamoru himself believes to have lost a long time ago. He's forgotten how to be tender, compassionate and kind, but only barely. The memory is lurking right underneath the surface as if only covered with fresh new skin still, raw and pink and easily broken.
Mamoru knows he can reall those feelings if he just permits himself to, but he also knows it would break him. And not only him, but Yuuri aswell.
So what is he doing here?
Every time they're done with each other, Mamoru considers asking Yuuri to stay, but most of the times he just leaves before the words come out. The other times he waits too long and Yuuri slips out of the room first.
His "goodbye"s are soft, yet detatched, his physical exhaustion no match for the emotional fatigue he feels.
Chess
His grandfather's study is dark, imposing in it's traditional Japanese architechture, filled with expensive antiques. Like the chess board, a 17th century rarity with artfully carved pieces. The white king has always drawn Mamoru in, because the artist's skill is particularly obvious it's almost lifelike features, the way even a twirl in the piece's moustache is fashioned in the most minute detail. To Mamoru, this piece is a symbol of the game itsself, the very culmination of his efforts. Ironic how he keeps striving to take it yet never can, a frustration that exceeds the game in so many ways.
The chessboard has taught him several valuable lessons in the past years, like how not all lives have the same value, and it continues teaching him.
There is a dull clacking sound as Saijou sets down a bishop before his queen.
"You're not paying attention, Mamoru."
Mamoru has learned to suppress his emotinal responses early on.
"Sorry, Oujii-sama." He scans the board for his next move, but he has already forgotten his plan of attack.
"You will have to put this teacher out of your mind."
This time Mamoru can't hold in a gasp of surprise. Until now he'd believed he had been careful enough when planning his meetings with Yuuri.
"This old man is not blind and deaf yet."
Mamoru remains silent. He has defied his grandfather before, during the incident at the Kowa Academy, but he paid the price afterwards.
"What do you hope to accomplish by seeing him again?"
Mamoru bites his lip, the metallic taste of blood soon trickling into his mouth. Still, his grandfather isn't looking at him, old eyes intently studying the chess game, while his calm question delivers the pretense of desinterest.
"Do you really believe he loves you for who you are? He loves the Tsukiyono Omi from his past. Mamoru is a stranger to him."
The younger man's eyes focuss on the the white king's face again as he concedes: "He hates Mamoru."
In the twilight, the piece seems to be mocking him with its arrogant smile.
Monster I have become
"But then we'll also have to consider the company's stance on...."
Mamoru's words are interrupted as the conference room door is thrown wide open and a tall man he knows only too well storms in through the door, followed by half of his security staff. Meanwhile his business partners stare blankly at the intruder.
"I'm sorry Mamoru-sama, we couldn't stop him. We'll have him out in a second." His personal assistant appologises, but he merely raises a hand to stop the bodyguards.
"Shouri-san." He says calmly, noding to the unexpected visitor in greeting. "I'm rather busy right now. I'd have appreciated if you'd made an appointment."
If looks could kill, Mamoru muses silently as he looks unblinkinly into the other's dark eyes, that are so similar to Yuuri's. The older man is incensed, he knows it, even though his face is set in stone. And he also knows his calm behaviour is making him more furious by the second.
Finally Mamoru sighs. If he wants to avoid an incident right here infront of the board of executives, he'll have to let Shouri speak his mind. Rising from his seat, he flashes an appologetic smile to the other people gathered around the table.
"Gentlemen, excuse me for a moment."
***
"I want you to stop seeing him."
Shouri demands as soon as the door of his office has closed behind them.
"It took a lot of courage coming here, Shouri-san, I'll give you that. Especially now that your company may merge with the Takatori group. A time when lots of unnesseary expenses are cut and people inevitably lose their livelihood."
Mamoru doesn't like the way his voice sounds in his own ears as he utters the subtle threat. Too calm and collected for his own taste. There's no way for the other to know it's an empty threat, but he surprises Mamoru by not flinching at all, still glowering down on him even as he moves to sit down behind his desk.
"I want you to stay away from him." Shouri even advances on him. "Yuuri's always been too soft for his own good. He believes in second chances. And although I don't understand why, he still loves you even after all you've done and are still doing to him. I'm sure this means nothing to you, but stop causing him more pain."
"Shouri-san" He forces his voice to become even colder and more distant. And it does, with much greater ease than Mamoru believed possible, but though his smile remains unchanged. "What your brother does or does not do is his choice and his choice alone."
"Fucking bastard." In a flash, Shouri has Mamoru by the collar. "It makes me sick that I once trusted you to make him happy."
The door opens to admit two of Mamoru's best bodyguards, two tall thugs, who look ready just about ready to snap the black-haired man's neck, if Mamoru told them to.
Seeing himself outnumbered, Shouri merely releases him and stalks towards the door, not seeing the gentle shake of the head Mamoru gives his escorts as streightens out his suit.
"Tell the board members I'll be right with them."
Once the door has closed and he's finally alone, he sinks down into his chair, staring up at the ceiling.