"Painful recovery": More evil bunny drabbles
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz Glühen/ Kyou Kara Maou
Warnings: yaoi, angst, blah, blah, bla, you know the drill
Characters/couples: Mamoru (Omi)/ Yuuri
Ratings: G, G, M and PG
Notes: "Small Steps" is the closest thing to fluff the bunny's let me write for weeks. @_@
But as bizarre as it sounds, writing emotionally disfunctional Mamoru is actually pretty fun, even though it hurts in so many ways.
Wrong Kind Of Right
continued from here.
Yuuri is about to retreat from the bed when he comes to a sudden halt. Without warning, Mamoru has turned, taken hold of his wrist.
But that's not what's holding him back, because his grasp is gentle and hardly able to restrain him. It's the silent plea in Mamoru's eyes, so lost and toubled, that any thought of leaving is wiped away.
They stay like that for the longest time; gazes locked together, Mamoru looking up at him and Yuuri looking back and the sounds of a light summer morning rain drifting in through the window. There's no sound but the gentle pattering of raindrops against the leaves of the ancient tree infront of Yuuri's house.
Finally Mamoru moves, eyes closing as he hesitantly rests his head in Yuuri's lap.
It's an old cliché Mamoru knows only too well from books or movies: When characters try to be deep and meaningful they say 'how something so wrong can feel so right'. However he doubts they've ever experienced the opposite. Something as fundamentally right as a tender embrace can indeed feel painfully alien and foreign.
Both of them breathless and trembling, they sit on.
"I'm still Takatori Mamoru," he murmurs quietly after a while, mumbling against the material of Yuuri's pyjamas, as if he's afraid to make a move of any kind.
Yuuri feels an uneasy smile come to his lips and even he's not sure if it's one of pain or fearful hope.
"Deep down, you're still Tsukiyono Omi, too."
Small Steps
Mamoru's stomache gave a traitorous rumble and even though Yuuri was saddened that his cheeks wouldn't colour like they used to, the sheepish look on the other's face was enough to make him smile wistfully.
He rose from the bed. "I'll get something to eat."
***
"Sorry," He said, flashing an appologetic grin as he returned with two bowls balenced on a tray. "I haven't been shopping, all I could find was instant ramen."
Mamoru merely smiled as he pushed himself up against the headboard and accepted the steaming dish Yuuri handed him.
"Miso ramen?" He gave it a long sniff. "I really missed this."
"What, with oysters and caviar, you'd rather have junk food?"
One eyebrow curiously raised, he watched Mamoru dip his chopsticks into the soup and give the noodles an experimental prod. When the Takatori heir gave a small chuckle at his words, Yuuri's heart almost skipped a beat.
Even though the laugh stopped fairly quickly, as if he had become so unused to the sound that it made him uncomfortable, Mamoru continued to smile.
"You wouldn't believe how much I hate caviar" he replied with a shudder.
Come Close, Closer ... Too Close
Yuuri's kisses are soft and instant in the way they travel across his skin, his weight constant above him. Mamoru turns his head. Blue eyes are closed tightly as he fights to lie still and take only what Yuuri is willing to give and that alone.
It's not easy, every instinct tells him to tumble the other man, have him pinned to the bed, hands clutching at his wrists.
But instead his fingers clench in the sheets.
***
The silence feels awkward as it so commonly does between them these days and Mamoru's eyes stare off into space, covers drawn tightly around his body.
“O - Mamoru ...”
He flinches at the quiet voice beside his ear. Recently Yuuri's been having trouble with names again.
“It's ... ”
“Don't say it's okay. It's not.” He snaps in a voice so harsh, that he wants to kick himself immediately afterwards - or worse.
“Sorry” he hastily concedes, tone as soft as he can possbibly manage. He doesn't speak again until he feels Yuuri relaxing beside him. “I guess I deserve this.”
By Yuuri's shaky breathing he can tell that he's still hurt even if he doesn't comment, but neverthesless an arm wraps itsself around his shoulders, applying soft pressure and Mamoru turns to breathe a long sigh against the welcoming chest.
“Yuuri, I'm so messed up.”
Long way
It's perfect.
Soft music, wine, dimmed lights and candles, warm kisses, tenderly exploring hands and a comfortable bed.
Everything one would expect from a romantic evening; it should be perfect.
And still Mamoru pushes Yuuri away, bitter with himself.
"I'm sorry. I just don't know if I can be with a person on anybody's terms but my own anymore."
Yuuri looks at him with a mixture of what he figures are pain and rejection.
"Do you love me?" he asks honestly, making Mamoru sigh almost reproachfully, as if the topic were below the belt.
"Yuuri ...."
The other studies him for a while and once again his charcoal eyes seem to scan his very thoughts. In a way, it's comforting to know some things never change.
Finally Yuuri nods and turns his head, watching the shadows the flickering candles are casting onto the walls.
"It's okay, it's a long way to come back."
Not for the first time Mamoru finds himself unable to make heads or tails of his lover's smile.
But then suddenly a hand is being extended towards him.
"Dance with me?"
Warnings: yaoi, angst, blah, blah, bla, you know the drill
Characters/couples: Mamoru (Omi)/ Yuuri
Ratings: G, G, M and PG
Notes: "Small Steps" is the closest thing to fluff the bunny's let me write for weeks. @_@
But as bizarre as it sounds, writing emotionally disfunctional Mamoru is actually pretty fun, even though it hurts in so many ways.
Wrong Kind Of Right
continued from here.
Yuuri is about to retreat from the bed when he comes to a sudden halt. Without warning, Mamoru has turned, taken hold of his wrist.
But that's not what's holding him back, because his grasp is gentle and hardly able to restrain him. It's the silent plea in Mamoru's eyes, so lost and toubled, that any thought of leaving is wiped away.
They stay like that for the longest time; gazes locked together, Mamoru looking up at him and Yuuri looking back and the sounds of a light summer morning rain drifting in through the window. There's no sound but the gentle pattering of raindrops against the leaves of the ancient tree infront of Yuuri's house.
Finally Mamoru moves, eyes closing as he hesitantly rests his head in Yuuri's lap.
It's an old cliché Mamoru knows only too well from books or movies: When characters try to be deep and meaningful they say 'how something so wrong can feel so right'. However he doubts they've ever experienced the opposite. Something as fundamentally right as a tender embrace can indeed feel painfully alien and foreign.
Both of them breathless and trembling, they sit on.
"I'm still Takatori Mamoru," he murmurs quietly after a while, mumbling against the material of Yuuri's pyjamas, as if he's afraid to make a move of any kind.
Yuuri feels an uneasy smile come to his lips and even he's not sure if it's one of pain or fearful hope.
"Deep down, you're still Tsukiyono Omi, too."
Small Steps
Mamoru's stomache gave a traitorous rumble and even though Yuuri was saddened that his cheeks wouldn't colour like they used to, the sheepish look on the other's face was enough to make him smile wistfully.
He rose from the bed. "I'll get something to eat."
***
"Sorry," He said, flashing an appologetic grin as he returned with two bowls balenced on a tray. "I haven't been shopping, all I could find was instant ramen."
Mamoru merely smiled as he pushed himself up against the headboard and accepted the steaming dish Yuuri handed him.
"Miso ramen?" He gave it a long sniff. "I really missed this."
"What, with oysters and caviar, you'd rather have junk food?"
One eyebrow curiously raised, he watched Mamoru dip his chopsticks into the soup and give the noodles an experimental prod. When the Takatori heir gave a small chuckle at his words, Yuuri's heart almost skipped a beat.
Even though the laugh stopped fairly quickly, as if he had become so unused to the sound that it made him uncomfortable, Mamoru continued to smile.
"You wouldn't believe how much I hate caviar" he replied with a shudder.
Come Close, Closer ... Too Close
Yuuri's kisses are soft and instant in the way they travel across his skin, his weight constant above him. Mamoru turns his head. Blue eyes are closed tightly as he fights to lie still and take only what Yuuri is willing to give and that alone.
It's not easy, every instinct tells him to tumble the other man, have him pinned to the bed, hands clutching at his wrists.
But instead his fingers clench in the sheets.
***
The silence feels awkward as it so commonly does between them these days and Mamoru's eyes stare off into space, covers drawn tightly around his body.
“O - Mamoru ...”
He flinches at the quiet voice beside his ear. Recently Yuuri's been having trouble with names again.
“It's ... ”
“Don't say it's okay. It's not.” He snaps in a voice so harsh, that he wants to kick himself immediately afterwards - or worse.
“Sorry” he hastily concedes, tone as soft as he can possbibly manage. He doesn't speak again until he feels Yuuri relaxing beside him. “I guess I deserve this.”
By Yuuri's shaky breathing he can tell that he's still hurt even if he doesn't comment, but neverthesless an arm wraps itsself around his shoulders, applying soft pressure and Mamoru turns to breathe a long sigh against the welcoming chest.
“Yuuri, I'm so messed up.”
Long way
It's perfect.
Soft music, wine, dimmed lights and candles, warm kisses, tenderly exploring hands and a comfortable bed.
Everything one would expect from a romantic evening; it should be perfect.
And still Mamoru pushes Yuuri away, bitter with himself.
"I'm sorry. I just don't know if I can be with a person on anybody's terms but my own anymore."
Yuuri looks at him with a mixture of what he figures are pain and rejection.
"Do you love me?" he asks honestly, making Mamoru sigh almost reproachfully, as if the topic were below the belt.
"Yuuri ...."
The other studies him for a while and once again his charcoal eyes seem to scan his very thoughts. In a way, it's comforting to know some things never change.
Finally Yuuri nods and turns his head, watching the shadows the flickering candles are casting onto the walls.
"It's okay, it's a long way to come back."
Not for the first time Mamoru finds himself unable to make heads or tails of his lover's smile.
But then suddenly a hand is being extended towards him.
"Dance with me?"