Hibernation - Chapter 1
Title: Hibernation (Chapter 1/?)
Author: narcoticblue
Fandom: alice nine.
Pairing(s): Tora/Saga
Rating: PG-13 for language, implications of M/M
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, schmoop
Warnings: Pet death, but it isn’t the subject of the story.
Disclaimer: Do not own anything or anyone. :(
Summary: Saga doesn't speak at all when he takes the call, just stares at his feet, looks at Tora and it's then that Tora knows Chiko's dead.
Chapter 1.
He sees it in Saga's eyes, hazel and clear under winter skies, and knows. Doesn't have to hear the words Saga couldn't vocalize, the quiver of his lips, the tremble of his fingers when he opens the cell phone. Saga doesn't speak at all when he takes the call, just stares at his feet, looks at Tora and it's then that Tora knows Chiko's dead.
Just like that, through static voices and thinly stretched emotions.
White knuckles closing around metallic red of the cell, red eyes against drained face, Saga lets out a small “Tora,” and it tumbles into the air, no beginning, no end, just Tora. He looks small and young, like a kid, 11-year-old, perhaps, but this time, he's not about to receive his first puppy, he's just lost him, and Tora feels protective.
He extends his hand and Saga clutches his wrist, another “Tora” drops, a deadweight against deadbeat silence. Dead. Tora tries to shove the thought out of his mind as he sits them both on the edge of the bed - hotel bed, on tour, why did they have to be on tour? - and positions himself to let Saga lean on him, and for the next thirty minutes it's shaking shoulders and eventually hiccups and warm and dark patches spreading on his jeans.
Tora doesn't realize he's crying too until his own tears fall onto his lap.
When the tears subside, Saga detaches himself from Tora, wipes his eyes once with the palms of his hand and gives a Tora a pleading look. Tora knows the look, of ache and longing, of wanting to curl up, inside yourself, into nothingness, in desperate hope that the ache just dissipates. He kisses Saga's eye, tastes salt on his tongue, and leaves.
-
Outside, snow was coming down in flurries of red, blue, yellow, purple, every color except white under headlights and neon signs, turning into gray mush on the ground. Tora doesn't consider going out for one second and thinks about going to his other band mates' rooms, but doesn't feel like talking either.
He finally goes to the hotel's bar on the top floor and sits by the window to watch city lights, discolored snow, soundless traffic. They're not allowed to drink on tour, so he calls a decaf. The bagels here are tasteless but he eats two so he can think about their tastelessness and not think about anything else.
It doesn't work.
-
There are no lights on in the room when he returns - nor did he expect there to be any - but the curtains are drawn back and the sky glows dark blue and streetlight-orange outside the stretching windows. He sees Saga curled up in his bed, facing the windows, so he goes up by the bed. Saga doesn't move, doesn't show any acknowledgment of him; for a second, irrational fear shoots cold through his heart and bones. But upon closer inspection, Saga's chest rises and falls evenly and there's little puffing sounds because Saga's breathing through his mouth. Tora wants to tuck back the stray blond strand across Saga's eyes and pull his blanket up, but he stops his hand mid-way. He wasn't about to ruin what brief peacefulness could still be retained in this moment of repose.
He goes to the bathroom and goes through his routine quickly, avoiding the shower and the mirror. Nothing's changed when he comes out. He changes into sweatpants and no top and lays like that in his own bed, his fingers meshed together under his head. Ceiling, Saga, windows, Saga; he can't help but turn his head every few seconds to check upon the unchanging stillness, sighing roughly each time. He tries to count sheep to urge sleep and obliviousness on, but ends up imagining Chikos instead. One Chiko jumping over the fence, two Chikos jumping over the fence, three, don't jump over there, Chiko, four Chikos, five, six Chikos, no, seven…
The image continues into a dream, it's nearly the same. Only, this time, on this side there's Tora, shouting wordlessly, helplessly, and on the other of the fence there's Saga, waiting patiently for each dog to jump over.
Tora's eyes shoot open to cold sweat, a dry mouth, an erratic heartbeat and to a blond head resting in the crook of his arm, blond hair and warm breath ticklish against his collarbone. Tora spends the night - or whatever was left of it - stroking Saga's hair and watching the sky grow lighter.
-
Over the next few days, Tora's the one to break the news to the rest of the band and some of the staff. He sees the reactions play over and over. Sharp gasps, sad eyes, sympathetic frowns, over and over again, like some scratched record. He knows it's irrational, but he can't help but feel a bit angry whenever the anticipated reaction plays out. Because they never really knew Chiko, or Chiko with Saga, not like Tora, Tora's seen Chiko with Saga, many times, Tora knows, the way Chiko's ears perk when Saga pets him on a special spot, sometimes Tora can do it too. And because no one else knows the things Tora knows, no one else should act so fucking sympathetic, Tora thinks but doesn't show. Chiko was Saga's beloved dog, and Saga's Tora's beloved everything, only Saga and maybe Tora should feel that hurt.
Nonetheless, he tells everyone to be “normal,” because it was one thing to act sympathetic with Tora, it was another thing to do so around Saga. It's unnecessary though, because Saga rarely leaves the room. So when he's not breaking the news, Tora brings food up and throws the leftovers - which is most of it - away; he sits with Saga in opposite armchairs by the window, in silence mostly, and sometimes in the sounds of a transposition of a ballad on acoustic. At night, the band plays their last few shows, Saga stands close to the backdrop, plays rigidly, and Tora moves around more than usual to cover Saga's space and just to shield Saga in general.
After the tour, Saga goes home by the first train, and rest of the band celebrates the end of the tour in disheartened fashion in some city that's not Tokyo, not home.
----
Notes: My muse called, said she wants me to write. I’m extremely rusty, and experimenting a bit here - got influenced while reading soundczech ’s Queer as Folk fics (which are bloody brilliant). Well, what can you do when your muse hits after months of being AWOL?
I was also inspired by aliceinfiction 's week 23 prompt, Spring Awakening. I couldn't manage a one-shot, so here this is. The prompt will be relevant at the end. Probably. Maybe.
In light of a comment I just received down there: the title is as relevant as the prompt. It'll make sense eventually.
Though still writing, I will finish this; I hate WIPs. :)
OMG! Once more I do not have a Tora/Saga icon. I'm a bad fangirl. This other icon... thing... will have to do.
Thank you: oneh_sax , jkun_jj and lhg1205 for being lovely betas!
Please comment/critique! I'd be flattered for just one line, one word. Thank you for reading. ♥
Author: narcoticblue
Fandom: alice nine.
Pairing(s): Tora/Saga
Rating: PG-13 for language, implications of M/M
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, schmoop
Warnings: Pet death, but it isn’t the subject of the story.
Disclaimer: Do not own anything or anyone. :(
Summary: Saga doesn't speak at all when he takes the call, just stares at his feet, looks at Tora and it's then that Tora knows Chiko's dead.
Chapter 1.
He sees it in Saga's eyes, hazel and clear under winter skies, and knows. Doesn't have to hear the words Saga couldn't vocalize, the quiver of his lips, the tremble of his fingers when he opens the cell phone. Saga doesn't speak at all when he takes the call, just stares at his feet, looks at Tora and it's then that Tora knows Chiko's dead.
Just like that, through static voices and thinly stretched emotions.
White knuckles closing around metallic red of the cell, red eyes against drained face, Saga lets out a small “Tora,” and it tumbles into the air, no beginning, no end, just Tora. He looks small and young, like a kid, 11-year-old, perhaps, but this time, he's not about to receive his first puppy, he's just lost him, and Tora feels protective.
He extends his hand and Saga clutches his wrist, another “Tora” drops, a deadweight against deadbeat silence. Dead. Tora tries to shove the thought out of his mind as he sits them both on the edge of the bed - hotel bed, on tour, why did they have to be on tour? - and positions himself to let Saga lean on him, and for the next thirty minutes it's shaking shoulders and eventually hiccups and warm and dark patches spreading on his jeans.
Tora doesn't realize he's crying too until his own tears fall onto his lap.
When the tears subside, Saga detaches himself from Tora, wipes his eyes once with the palms of his hand and gives a Tora a pleading look. Tora knows the look, of ache and longing, of wanting to curl up, inside yourself, into nothingness, in desperate hope that the ache just dissipates. He kisses Saga's eye, tastes salt on his tongue, and leaves.
-
Outside, snow was coming down in flurries of red, blue, yellow, purple, every color except white under headlights and neon signs, turning into gray mush on the ground. Tora doesn't consider going out for one second and thinks about going to his other band mates' rooms, but doesn't feel like talking either.
He finally goes to the hotel's bar on the top floor and sits by the window to watch city lights, discolored snow, soundless traffic. They're not allowed to drink on tour, so he calls a decaf. The bagels here are tasteless but he eats two so he can think about their tastelessness and not think about anything else.
It doesn't work.
-
There are no lights on in the room when he returns - nor did he expect there to be any - but the curtains are drawn back and the sky glows dark blue and streetlight-orange outside the stretching windows. He sees Saga curled up in his bed, facing the windows, so he goes up by the bed. Saga doesn't move, doesn't show any acknowledgment of him; for a second, irrational fear shoots cold through his heart and bones. But upon closer inspection, Saga's chest rises and falls evenly and there's little puffing sounds because Saga's breathing through his mouth. Tora wants to tuck back the stray blond strand across Saga's eyes and pull his blanket up, but he stops his hand mid-way. He wasn't about to ruin what brief peacefulness could still be retained in this moment of repose.
He goes to the bathroom and goes through his routine quickly, avoiding the shower and the mirror. Nothing's changed when he comes out. He changes into sweatpants and no top and lays like that in his own bed, his fingers meshed together under his head. Ceiling, Saga, windows, Saga; he can't help but turn his head every few seconds to check upon the unchanging stillness, sighing roughly each time. He tries to count sheep to urge sleep and obliviousness on, but ends up imagining Chikos instead. One Chiko jumping over the fence, two Chikos jumping over the fence, three, don't jump over there, Chiko, four Chikos, five, six Chikos, no, seven…
The image continues into a dream, it's nearly the same. Only, this time, on this side there's Tora, shouting wordlessly, helplessly, and on the other of the fence there's Saga, waiting patiently for each dog to jump over.
Tora's eyes shoot open to cold sweat, a dry mouth, an erratic heartbeat and to a blond head resting in the crook of his arm, blond hair and warm breath ticklish against his collarbone. Tora spends the night - or whatever was left of it - stroking Saga's hair and watching the sky grow lighter.
-
Over the next few days, Tora's the one to break the news to the rest of the band and some of the staff. He sees the reactions play over and over. Sharp gasps, sad eyes, sympathetic frowns, over and over again, like some scratched record. He knows it's irrational, but he can't help but feel a bit angry whenever the anticipated reaction plays out. Because they never really knew Chiko, or Chiko with Saga, not like Tora, Tora's seen Chiko with Saga, many times, Tora knows, the way Chiko's ears perk when Saga pets him on a special spot, sometimes Tora can do it too. And because no one else knows the things Tora knows, no one else should act so fucking sympathetic, Tora thinks but doesn't show. Chiko was Saga's beloved dog, and Saga's Tora's beloved everything, only Saga and maybe Tora should feel that hurt.
Nonetheless, he tells everyone to be “normal,” because it was one thing to act sympathetic with Tora, it was another thing to do so around Saga. It's unnecessary though, because Saga rarely leaves the room. So when he's not breaking the news, Tora brings food up and throws the leftovers - which is most of it - away; he sits with Saga in opposite armchairs by the window, in silence mostly, and sometimes in the sounds of a transposition of a ballad on acoustic. At night, the band plays their last few shows, Saga stands close to the backdrop, plays rigidly, and Tora moves around more than usual to cover Saga's space and just to shield Saga in general.
After the tour, Saga goes home by the first train, and rest of the band celebrates the end of the tour in disheartened fashion in some city that's not Tokyo, not home.
----
Notes: My muse called, said she wants me to write. I’m extremely rusty, and experimenting a bit here - got influenced while reading soundczech ’s Queer as Folk fics (which are bloody brilliant). Well, what can you do when your muse hits after months of being AWOL?
I was also inspired by aliceinfiction 's week 23 prompt, Spring Awakening. I couldn't manage a one-shot, so here this is. The prompt will be relevant at the end. Probably. Maybe.
In light of a comment I just received down there: the title is as relevant as the prompt. It'll make sense eventually.
Though still writing, I will finish this; I hate WIPs. :)
OMG! Once more I do not have a Tora/Saga icon. I'm a bad fangirl. This other icon... thing... will have to do.
Thank you: oneh_sax , jkun_jj and lhg1205 for being lovely betas!
Please comment/critique! I'd be flattered for just one line, one word. Thank you for reading. ♥