[Fic] Niou/Yagyuu
Niou has lung cancer. There is nothing Yagyuu can do.
Earlier in the years, Yagyuu has told him, constantly, to stop smoking, upright medical student that he is. Every attempt has failed miserably, shrugged off like an irritating fly on a summer day. Every intention is laughed at, for smoking is just a part of Niou as self-evident as his bleached hair is. Niou’s reactions don’t prevent him from going on, though.
“You like the taste of ash on my tongue, after all,” Niou whispers, and Yagyuu snaps his hips hard. Later on he tells him he would gladly welcome a replacement of the usual gross savour, even the distasteful cinnamon-flavoured chewing gum Niou tends to chew on a daily basis would do.
Niou only laughs, resting his arm loosely around Yagyuu’s shoulders in return, his sweat-damp hair sticking to his skin, while Yagyuu keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes. If it wasn’t for the darkness covering them almost entirely, Yagyuu would have seen the mischievous smirk he knows so well on the other one’s face.
Even though Niou is very well aware of the fact that smoking in Yagyuu’s bedroom is not an acceptable thing to do - and not a wise one, either -, he lights his cigarette with cruel calmness.
Once he has let himself out, Yagyuu removes the sheets, tidies up after the careless man, resigned. The curtains still smell of fume if one takes a deep breath, no matter how many times he launders it.
For two days, he won’t reply to Niou’s calls or messages. His principles he is not willing to let go of; nor his worry about Niou’s condition, considering the worsening stamina, the on-going dry cough.
After a short period of time, though, there is always Niou waiting for him at his car, after university, warm take-away food from some food stall in a plastic bag, a grin on his face, and Yagyuu passes on to the seat next to the driver’s one with no further comment.
There are few things Yagyuu positively knows about his former doubles partner, and countless things he doesn’t. Strangely enough, he doesn’t mind all that much; of all people in Niou’s life, he is the one who is trusted and relied on, and the one Niou always comes back to.
Niou likes doing the wrong things, that he knows for sure.
“Niou-kun,” he says, frowning, “don’t you care about your health at all?”
The other man doesn’t answer right away; instead he laughs in response. He always laughs, his eyes bright and full of life. “Do you?”
Regarding the already half-used cigarette between those slender fingers skeptically, Yagyuu answers, “Someone has to.”
Blowing silly kisses towards him as if to make fun of his concern, Niou finishes the stick, finally entering the apartment.
Both of them rarely play tennis anymore, Yagyuu due to his busy schedule whereas Niou not only seems to have somewhat lost interest in sports but also lacked his previous athleticism. Losing his wind quickly has become a common occurrence, along with losing weight despite Niou’s regular eating habits.
Sometimes they fight, either of them averse to concede until Yagyuu gives in, eventually.
Everything comes with a prize, he knows, however.
When Yagyuu comes home, tired and hungry after a long day of researching material for his studies, his hands, undressing him from his heavy coat, stop for a moment. Judging from the messily left shoes in the entrance hall, Niou is already inside; Yagyuu frowns at that thought, as Niou usually refuses to enter his apartment alone, in spite of being in possession of the spare key. Yagyuu can only venture a guess about the reason, but there he is now, sitting in the dark living-room, the TV switched off, his head resting on his hands as if he is about to fall asleep.
“Niou-kun,” he says quietly, briefly stroking the white hair, “you don’t have to sit in the dark. Watch a TV show if you like, I’m going to prepare some food.”
Neither a sound nor a twitch nor any other movements prove that Niou has actually heard him. Yagyuu remains at the spot, waiting for an answer; there is something wrong, a sharp feeling in his chest tells him.
“Niou-kun, “ he mutters again.
Only then Niou glances up, slowly. “You’re late,” his voice is scarcely audible, sounding strangely constrained. Then, out of the blue, “I’ve been at the doctor.”
Every muscle of Yagyuu seems to tense up at the statement; he keeps standing in front of the sofa, gazing at him even though the other man’s eyes resolutely focus on some point at the wall.
“Lung cancer,” Niou says, now breaking out in laughter, constricting the moment even more, “at it worst state. Isn’t it ironic?”
Niou laughs, and continues laughing, his face deformed and his hands trying to crush each other’s bones, until Yagyuu steps closer, embracing him so that Niou’s head rests on his chest. Breathing is so hard all of a sudden, Yagyuu feels.
The laughter goes on, though muffled now, while the entire body slightly trembles. Yagyuu holds him close, his helpless attempts of calming the man down failing on himself; he curses his unsteady heartbeat for giving away his own condition.
At some point, he feels cold hands on his back.
Niou breathes, “Yagyuu.”
I’m sorry, he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat. He’s late.
A week after the diagnosis has been announced, Niou starts smoking again.
Staring at him in disbelief, Yagyuu grabs the man’s wrist almost violently, tugging it off his face. Shouts form in his throat, and he doesn’t even bother to stay calm; in this very moment, he hates Niou.
Niou patiently listens to the plaints, all the same refusing to drop the previously lit cigarette. His wrist is still held by Yagyuu’s fingers, firmly, furiously; angry red marks will be left on the skin for several hours. As Yagyuu stops lecturing him - rage still pulsing in his blood -, Niou finally decides to meet his eyes.
“Let go,” is everything he says, pointing at his disabled forearm. Yagyuu feels cold, now.
“Do you want to die?,” he wants to know after a moment, his fingers still grasping him. “Do you, Niou-kun?”
A meaningless grin is followed by the question, and Niou forcefully frees his arm, inhaling deeply. “Does it matter?”
Somewhere along the way, Yagyuu understands. Niou doesn’t want to die, and Yagyuu doesn’t want to let go; but things are rarely the way you want them to be.
Niou changes; not visibly, apart from his virtually run-down body, but there are slight differences to his behaviour only Yagyuu notices. It frightens him, although he never mentions it in front of anyone. Particularly the blue eyes, tired and numb now, a smile flickering on his lips while his hands, once restless, remain motionless - there are many changes that Yagyuu can point out, but he says nothing.
For some reason, Niou still refuses to move in, preferring his tiny dwelling place with a hardly working air conditioner and dubious neighbourhood to comfort and safety.
“You’d feel better at my place,” Yagyuu insists. Niou brushes his offer off, though, sipping at his soda to avoid further comments; and the discussion ends just like that. The strong impulse to be independent is something Yagyuu has never understood about him; refusing to be a burden as the other side of the coin, he only realizes later.
One year later, Niou dies.
“His death has been painless,” Yagyuu tells them all, over and over again, and he is sick of the lies that he is supposed to tell.
The hospital staff practically forces him to go home, stating there is nothing he can do anyway, and that he looks like he seriously needs a break from everything. His friend’s corpse will be taken care of, there is no use in worrying.
When he arrives at his apartment, his intuition leads him straight to his bedroom; the air is thick from the week he hasn’t spent at home. Resisting the urge of looking under the messy blanket - if - just in case -, he steps to the large window.
His fingers move on their own, stroking the rough-textured fabric of his curtains; then he grabs it tightly, holding it against his face; the smoke he smells, and tastes, absorbs him thoroughly and completely.
The first drag of the cigarette between his lips, the first of his life, tastes raw and bitter, and by breathing it in as intensely as he manages, Yagyuu wants it to become a part of him.
Comments are really, really appreciated, please? :) ♥
Earlier in the years, Yagyuu has told him, constantly, to stop smoking, upright medical student that he is. Every attempt has failed miserably, shrugged off like an irritating fly on a summer day. Every intention is laughed at, for smoking is just a part of Niou as self-evident as his bleached hair is. Niou’s reactions don’t prevent him from going on, though.
“You like the taste of ash on my tongue, after all,” Niou whispers, and Yagyuu snaps his hips hard. Later on he tells him he would gladly welcome a replacement of the usual gross savour, even the distasteful cinnamon-flavoured chewing gum Niou tends to chew on a daily basis would do.
Niou only laughs, resting his arm loosely around Yagyuu’s shoulders in return, his sweat-damp hair sticking to his skin, while Yagyuu keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes. If it wasn’t for the darkness covering them almost entirely, Yagyuu would have seen the mischievous smirk he knows so well on the other one’s face.
Even though Niou is very well aware of the fact that smoking in Yagyuu’s bedroom is not an acceptable thing to do - and not a wise one, either -, he lights his cigarette with cruel calmness.
Once he has let himself out, Yagyuu removes the sheets, tidies up after the careless man, resigned. The curtains still smell of fume if one takes a deep breath, no matter how many times he launders it.
For two days, he won’t reply to Niou’s calls or messages. His principles he is not willing to let go of; nor his worry about Niou’s condition, considering the worsening stamina, the on-going dry cough.
After a short period of time, though, there is always Niou waiting for him at his car, after university, warm take-away food from some food stall in a plastic bag, a grin on his face, and Yagyuu passes on to the seat next to the driver’s one with no further comment.
There are few things Yagyuu positively knows about his former doubles partner, and countless things he doesn’t. Strangely enough, he doesn’t mind all that much; of all people in Niou’s life, he is the one who is trusted and relied on, and the one Niou always comes back to.
Niou likes doing the wrong things, that he knows for sure.
“Niou-kun,” he says, frowning, “don’t you care about your health at all?”
The other man doesn’t answer right away; instead he laughs in response. He always laughs, his eyes bright and full of life. “Do you?”
Regarding the already half-used cigarette between those slender fingers skeptically, Yagyuu answers, “Someone has to.”
Blowing silly kisses towards him as if to make fun of his concern, Niou finishes the stick, finally entering the apartment.
Both of them rarely play tennis anymore, Yagyuu due to his busy schedule whereas Niou not only seems to have somewhat lost interest in sports but also lacked his previous athleticism. Losing his wind quickly has become a common occurrence, along with losing weight despite Niou’s regular eating habits.
Sometimes they fight, either of them averse to concede until Yagyuu gives in, eventually.
Everything comes with a prize, he knows, however.
When Yagyuu comes home, tired and hungry after a long day of researching material for his studies, his hands, undressing him from his heavy coat, stop for a moment. Judging from the messily left shoes in the entrance hall, Niou is already inside; Yagyuu frowns at that thought, as Niou usually refuses to enter his apartment alone, in spite of being in possession of the spare key. Yagyuu can only venture a guess about the reason, but there he is now, sitting in the dark living-room, the TV switched off, his head resting on his hands as if he is about to fall asleep.
“Niou-kun,” he says quietly, briefly stroking the white hair, “you don’t have to sit in the dark. Watch a TV show if you like, I’m going to prepare some food.”
Neither a sound nor a twitch nor any other movements prove that Niou has actually heard him. Yagyuu remains at the spot, waiting for an answer; there is something wrong, a sharp feeling in his chest tells him.
“Niou-kun, “ he mutters again.
Only then Niou glances up, slowly. “You’re late,” his voice is scarcely audible, sounding strangely constrained. Then, out of the blue, “I’ve been at the doctor.”
Every muscle of Yagyuu seems to tense up at the statement; he keeps standing in front of the sofa, gazing at him even though the other man’s eyes resolutely focus on some point at the wall.
“Lung cancer,” Niou says, now breaking out in laughter, constricting the moment even more, “at it worst state. Isn’t it ironic?”
Niou laughs, and continues laughing, his face deformed and his hands trying to crush each other’s bones, until Yagyuu steps closer, embracing him so that Niou’s head rests on his chest. Breathing is so hard all of a sudden, Yagyuu feels.
The laughter goes on, though muffled now, while the entire body slightly trembles. Yagyuu holds him close, his helpless attempts of calming the man down failing on himself; he curses his unsteady heartbeat for giving away his own condition.
At some point, he feels cold hands on his back.
Niou breathes, “Yagyuu.”
I’m sorry, he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat. He’s late.
A week after the diagnosis has been announced, Niou starts smoking again.
Staring at him in disbelief, Yagyuu grabs the man’s wrist almost violently, tugging it off his face. Shouts form in his throat, and he doesn’t even bother to stay calm; in this very moment, he hates Niou.
Niou patiently listens to the plaints, all the same refusing to drop the previously lit cigarette. His wrist is still held by Yagyuu’s fingers, firmly, furiously; angry red marks will be left on the skin for several hours. As Yagyuu stops lecturing him - rage still pulsing in his blood -, Niou finally decides to meet his eyes.
“Let go,” is everything he says, pointing at his disabled forearm. Yagyuu feels cold, now.
“Do you want to die?,” he wants to know after a moment, his fingers still grasping him. “Do you, Niou-kun?”
A meaningless grin is followed by the question, and Niou forcefully frees his arm, inhaling deeply. “Does it matter?”
Somewhere along the way, Yagyuu understands. Niou doesn’t want to die, and Yagyuu doesn’t want to let go; but things are rarely the way you want them to be.
Niou changes; not visibly, apart from his virtually run-down body, but there are slight differences to his behaviour only Yagyuu notices. It frightens him, although he never mentions it in front of anyone. Particularly the blue eyes, tired and numb now, a smile flickering on his lips while his hands, once restless, remain motionless - there are many changes that Yagyuu can point out, but he says nothing.
For some reason, Niou still refuses to move in, preferring his tiny dwelling place with a hardly working air conditioner and dubious neighbourhood to comfort and safety.
“You’d feel better at my place,” Yagyuu insists. Niou brushes his offer off, though, sipping at his soda to avoid further comments; and the discussion ends just like that. The strong impulse to be independent is something Yagyuu has never understood about him; refusing to be a burden as the other side of the coin, he only realizes later.
One year later, Niou dies.
“His death has been painless,” Yagyuu tells them all, over and over again, and he is sick of the lies that he is supposed to tell.
The hospital staff practically forces him to go home, stating there is nothing he can do anyway, and that he looks like he seriously needs a break from everything. His friend’s corpse will be taken care of, there is no use in worrying.
When he arrives at his apartment, his intuition leads him straight to his bedroom; the air is thick from the week he hasn’t spent at home. Resisting the urge of looking under the messy blanket - if - just in case -, he steps to the large window.
His fingers move on their own, stroking the rough-textured fabric of his curtains; then he grabs it tightly, holding it against his face; the smoke he smells, and tastes, absorbs him thoroughly and completely.
The first drag of the cigarette between his lips, the first of his life, tastes raw and bitter, and by breathing it in as intensely as he manages, Yagyuu wants it to become a part of him.
Comments are really, really appreciated, please? :) ♥