The Loneliness I Pride Myself On ~ 5/18 ~ [Reita/Ruki]
Title: The Loneliness I Pride Myself On
Author: ravennightmare6
Beta: krasivayadusha
Chapter: 5/18
Genre: AU, Angst, Humor, Fluff, Smut
Rating(Overall): NC-17
Pairing/s: Reita/Ruki (Akira/Takanori), Uruha/Aoi (Kouyou/Yuu)
Synopsis: Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.
Warnings: A little violence, Use of real names, Profanity
Disclaimer: As unfortunate as it may be, I do not own The GazettE. I only own the plot.
Comments: At the bottom, darlings <3
Previous Chapter
A/N: Before you read this chapter, darlings, I just want to say a HUGE thank you to my lovely Beta, krasivayadusha. Without her I never would've gotten this chapter done, she helped me out a ton! She's amazing and wonderful in every single way! <3
Ok, enjoy the chapter, lovelies <3
Following Takanori through his elaborately decorated house, Akira stared around in complete and utter awe. He’d never seen anything so amazing in his life. As they walked through the foyer he felt the plush carpet under his sock clad feet, softer than any carpet he’d ever felt before, and when he looked up he saw a glittering crystal chandelier. As they moved forward, the tall blonde glanced through an open door to his left and recognized instantly that it was a brightly lit and very inviting-looking living room. He was able to quickly glimpse a large beige leather lounge suite and the biggest flat screen television he’d seen in his life. In the corner sat a large white grand piano with its lid up, suggesting it’d recently been played. The far wall, instead of just a few windows looking over the yard, was completely comprised of floor to ceiling glass panels.
“Amazing,” Akira mumbled to himself as he continued to follow Takanori up the grand staircase to the upper floor of the house.
He knew Takanori had heard him because the little blonde moved his head to the right and cast his hazel tinted orbs in Akira’s direction, not quite looking at him. The shorter refrained from talking though, only continuing to lead Akira further into the masterpiece of a home.
After turning left at the top of the stairs, Takanori stopped outside the fourth door on the right and put his hand on the shiny silver door handle, pushing open the obstructing piece of wood to reveal a room that was almost completely dark. The heavy black curtains were drawn shut; the only source of light filtering into the room was from either side of the thick material where it didn’t quite reach the end of the window. But once his eyes adjusted to the dark Akira saw that, despite what most people thought a teenager’s bedroom would look like, Takanori’s room was completely spotless. His bed was freshly made, his floor recently vacuumed.
“Have a seat.” Takanori spoke with unmistakable nonchalance in his voice; it was something that Akira had never heard in the two years he’d known the other. The feisty little blonde never ceased to amaze the elder. He always seemed to have some new emotion or reaction to show that Akira had never seen before. It was all a question of why he’d never noticed these emotions before.
Hesitantly wandering further into the dark room, Akira sat in the black desk chair. He was acting out of character, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. With Takanori acting so unlike his usual self it was exceedingly difficult for Akira to feel relaxed like he normally did. And so he sat in the desk chair with his back straight, feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He knew he looked ridiculously formal, but there was little he could do about it. The nagging uneasiness in the pit of his stomach refused to subside.
Takanori studied Akira as he shut the door to his room, momentarily submerging the large space in total darkness before his eyes quickly adjusted. In the dimly lit room he could see Akira sitting in his desk chair looking very much like he’d just had a stick shoved up his arse. The blonde boy was completely rigid, with his large hands clasped tightly in his lap. Takanori furrowed his well-trimmed brows and narrowed his eyes at his company; he looked even more like an idiot now.
Giving Akira an incredulous look, Takanori crawled onto his king size bed and sat with his back against the headboard. He brought his thin legs up, until his thighs pressed against his sweater clad torso, and wrapped his arms around them, tucking himself in a tight little ball. He rested his chin on top of his knees and stared directly at Akira who seemed to be avoiding his eyes at all cost.
Takanori wondered why Akira was even there. The tall blonde had been the last person he’d expected to show up at his doorstep. Why? Why did he care? Why did he think that Takanori would give him any answers? The fact that Akira even thought for a second that Takanori would reveal anything to him made the stupid bird even less intelligent than before; and that was really saying something. But wait… Takanori had revealed things. Things he’d never intended to tell anyone. Ever. He cursed himself for being so careless with his words. He’d always had a temper, but he was usually able to control what he said. So why was the so different when it came to Akira? When he was around the elder blonde, especially when he was angry, what came out of his mouth was like word vomit. He couldn’t control what he said. The third year made him completely lose track of his train of thought. He wondered if things had always been this way between them. Maybe he’d been giving things away to the tall blonde since the day they’d met and he’d just never noticed. All these raging thoughts made Takanori’s head hurt and he had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly in order to force them to subside… for now.
Opening his eyes up again he noticed that Akira was still refusing to look at him. Takanori stared with a bored expression on his usually pretty features and his voice conveyed his obvious boredom perfectly. “What the hell are you doing here, Suzuki?”
Akira suddenly looked at him and scoffed. “Oh, come on Takanori. I know you’re blonde but you aren’t that dumb.”
Takanori curled his top lip in what looked like a snarl, but no noise came out. The little blonde then dropped his gaze, something that was very uncharacteristic of him, to focus on the freshly cleaned bed cover. “Don’t insult me, Akira. I’m not in the mood.”
Not in the mood? Since when was Takanori ever not in the mood for swapping insults? He always had something to say no matter what the situation was. So why was he so withdrawn time? Akira felt like he was going crazy.
Taking a deep breath, Akira figured he may as well just cut to the chase. There was no use in beating around the bush. “I want to know why you haven’t been at school for three fucking weeks. What the hell is going?”
What Akira would have expected to be snarky reply was said with the same nonchalance that had seemed to settle itself in the tone of Takanori’s voice. “I don’t remember that ever being your business, so just drop it.”
“No, I won’t drop it,” Akira scowled at the little blonde; his shitty attitude was quickly making its way under the elder boy’s skin. The roles were reversed; Takanori was that one avoiding eye contact with Akira. “I want to know what’s going on, Takanori.”
“Why should I tell you?” Takanori suddenly raised his eyes to meet Akira’s gaze. A challenge lay underneath the mask of boredom. Takanori wanted the older blonde to tell him exactly why he wanted answers. He wanted him to come up with a valid reason; though he already knew there wouldn’t be one. Akira had no right to know anything about Takanori or his problem. He wished the taller blonde would just butt out.
He recognized the challenge in his eyes straight away. Akira opened his mouth to answer but he fell short of finding the right words. The younger boy was exactly right. Why should Takanori tell him? Akira couldn’t think of a reason, he didn’t have one. But he had his mind set find out what exactly was going on with the little second year. Akira was always a very determined person; once he said he was going to do something he’d always do exactly that. Akira never took no for an answer.
He sighed and scratched the back of his head, “I haven’t got a reason besides the fact that I want to know.”
Takanori scoffed, “Sorry, that’s not going to cut it. You expect me to spill every detail just because you want to know? That’s absolute bullshit.”
Scowling, Akira felt the earlier uneasiness start to subside and he began to slouch in his seat. The annoyance the little blonde made him feel was beginning to feel more normal to him. This was what he was used to; this was the way things were meant to be. Akira couldn’t help but feel slightly more comfortable when he was pissed with Takanori and vice versa, it just felt more normal.
Takanori was also beginning to lose him patience. He clenched his fists and tightened the hold he had on his own legs. He growled through his teeth, “I don’t want you in my house, so why the hell are you still here?”
The blonde third year glared back, clenching his own fists. His short fuse was quickly running out. “I don’t know why I’m still here, alright? But I do kno-”
“If you don’t know then just fucking leave already!” Takanori yelled. Clearly he’d had enough of the elder blonde’s presence. “I don’t want you here, Akira!”
“Let me finish speaking, you rude little shit!” Akira leapt out of the desk chair and strode towards the bed Takanori sat on, an unattractive scowl etched into his usually handsome features. He reached out and took hold of one of the second year’s thin wrists and yanked him forward, causing him to tumble out of his tightly held ball and sit on the bed in front of the older boy with his legs splayed out to the side, needing to lean on his spare hand in order to not fall over. Akira bent so that Takanori’s petit nose almost touched his own covered one. “I don’t know why I’m still here.” His fingers tightened around the younger boy’s wrist. “But I do know that I’m not leave until I get some fucking answers.”
Takanori almost snarled. He yanked on his wrist, trying to free it from Akira’s iron grip, but his attempts were all in vain. He laughed bitterly and glared into Akira’s onyx eyes. “Well you might as well pack up your bags and move in, birdbrain. Because there’s no way I’ll ever answer to you.”
As much as Takanori tried to keep his facial expression as angry as possible he couldn’t help but wince and whimper ever so slightly as Akira’s grip tightened once again. The taller blonde heard the strange noise come from Takanori and blinked a few times, seeming as though he was coming out of some form of trance. He looked down at the tiny, breakable wrist he had in his large hand. H gasped as he released it and pulled back. Takanori cradled his hand against his chest and rubbed his sore wrist, glaring up at the third year.
Akira felt an instant stab of guilt. He hadn’t meant to do that; not at all. What had he been thinking? But that’s just it; he hadn’t been. ‘Stupid,’ he though. ‘I’m so fucking stupid! How could I let my temper get that out of hand?’ He looked down at the abused wrist and noticed the red finger marks left there and they only served to make him feel worse. His eyebrows pulled together in what could only be concern, whether he knew it or not. “Takanori, I’m-”
“Get out!” The little blonde screamed. “Get the fuck out of my house! You fucking arsehole!”
Akira just stood there for a few moments trying to process what he’d just done. Sure, he’d beat Takanori up before; neither of them ever forgot it. It had been a regular part of life up until three weeks ago. But this time hurting him felt… wrong; he’d never meant to do it.
The little blonde glowered at him. “Didn’t you hear me? Are you fucking deaf or something? I said get out!”
“No.”
Takanori’s hazel eyes widened in pure rage, “What did you just say?”
Akira took a deep breath to calm himself. He stood tall, slightly puffing out his chest and balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I said, not. I told you, I’m leaving until I get answers.” He wasn’t about to back down, he never did. It was just in his nature to be stubborn.
The little blonde on the bed stared at him as if he were some kind of alien. He figured Takanori was totally taken aback by his blatant refusal to leave. It made Akira wonder if the second year had ever let anyone else inside his house. Probably not, considering how horrible Takanori was at making friends. He felt a small surge of pride in the pit of his stomach. Knowing that he’d been the first to enter this part of Takanori’s life made him want to grin in triumph. But he felt that if he did that he may get the heaviest nearby object thrown at his head, which didn’t feel very appealing to him in the slightest.
All of a sudden Takanori had launched himself off the bed taking a hold of Akira’s wrist with the hand that wasn’t attached to his own injured one. The tall blonde was ruthlessly jerked forward; being pulled towards the bedroom door which Takanori flung open and exited, Akira in tow. The little blonde had a surprisingly strong grip and, between the shock of suddenly being treated like a rag doll and the iron grip around his wrist, he couldn’t seem to break free.
Pulling the front door open Takanori flung Akira outside so hard the tall blonde tripped down the small front step and landed hard on the gravel of the driveway, scraping his hands and knees in the process. He hissed in pain as he sat up and whipped his head to see the enraged second year standing in the doorway breathing heavily, a dark scowl etched into his usually flawless brow. Takanori looked as though he was about to murder someone and Akira figured that someone was most likely him; though that didn’t make him want to leave. Not at all. He still needed to get his answers.
Takanori slammed the door shut, no doubt disappearing back into his bedroom. Akira sat up and hissed again as he brought his hands up to assess the damage that’d been done. He had scrapes all over his palms and a small amount of blood oozed from the freshly opened wounds and when he pulled up the legs of his school trousers he noticed his knees were in no better shape. But still he stayed where he was, not moving an inch from where he sat in the middle of the gravel driveway outside Takanori’s door. He would stay. He didn’t care how long it took. He would stay until Takanori opened that door and gave him the answers he desired so intensely.
Meanwhile, inside the large mansion, Takanori closed the door to his favourite room and slid down the wood until his backside hit the soft carpeted floor. He looked around the room; though his mind was still racing its contents brought an instant wave of calm upon him. The room contained numerous guitars and basses in their stands, drum kit in the corner, a keyboard sitting on its stand in front of a piano stool, as well a microphone and computer. His recording studio. His sanctuary. The place he would never let anyone see. It was the place Takanori spent ninety per cent of his time. It was the room in which he poured his feelings out without fear of them ever being seen or heard by anyone. It was his ultimate safe place.
…The only place he ever cried.
Takanori loathed crying. It made him look weak. It meant that the stress of the world was making his impeccably built walls crumble to nothing but a fine dust. He tried with all his might to keep the salty weakness inside but he was powerless to stop it. All at once every little scrap of pent up emotion came flowing out in trails of tears, staining his cheeks and dripping onto the over-sized black sweater he wore. He hated himself when he looked like this. So broken. So helpless. What was wrong with him? Letting something to simple break his defences was stupid.
If felt as though years had passed when, in reality, it’d only been a few hours. Even that was a long time for someone to cry. Takanori finally felt his tear ducts run dry, but still, he didn’t move an inch. The sun had long ago set; it must’ve been at least nine o’clock by the time the little blonde finally stood up on wobbly legs, needing to momentarily brace himself against the door. Taking a shaky breath he wiped away the remainder of the dried up tears. There was no doubt in Takanori’s mind that his eyes were red and puffy, but he had no concerns about that at the time.
Making it to the chair by the computer desk, he plopped down in it and wheeled it over to his electric guitar stand, picking up his favourite cherry red Ibanez. Sometimes he thought he looked a little odd with the instrument because its round body seemed so large against his own small frame. But he loved the guitar too much to really care. Its glossy body reflected the light of the desk lamp next to the high quality desktop computer and expensive recording equipment. Takanori plugged the guitar into one of the numerous amps in the room and turned up the volume. Taking a black pick off the desk he brought his right hand to the where the strings sat near the bridge and gave a single strum to check that the instrument was in tune. Deciding that it was, he raised his left hand to the neck. However, when he pressed his fingers down on the strings in a B minor chord he hissed and dropped the hand.
Looking down at his left wrist he scowled. It was the one Akira had grabbed and nearly squeezed the life out of. The marks of his fingers were still there, quickly turning into a painful bruise. Takanori tried the chord again only to come across the same result; a sharp jab of pain. Clearly if he moved the appendage the wrong way it would hurt, and that mean he wouldn’t be able to play any instrument for at least a few days.
“Fuck!” Takanori yelled and threw his pick across the room, managing to hit the cymbal of the drum kit. Akira always seemed to cause troubles for him. Thanks to that stupid third year Takanori had been robbed of his only source of comfort. What was he to do now? Wallow in self-hate and have his own little pity party? Not likely, but those seemed like the most plausible options seeing as he had no way of relieving his stress. The pent up anxieties would soon burst and he could do things much worse than cry.
Placing the guitar back on its stand the little blonde leaned back in the chair. He let a rush of air leave his lungs. What was he going to do? All he’d done for three weeks was compose and record, compose and record in order supress the bubbling emotions inside him, and now that his source of relief was gone he felt like he might explode.
***
“Dammit, it’s cold.” Akira shivered as he pulled his school jacket tighter around himself. Being outside at night during winter was possibly one of the stupidest decisions the blonde ever made. But he wouldn’t give up; he wouldn’t leave Takanori alone until he got what he wanted.
His shoulders shook violently as he checked his watch; almost midnight. He’d been sitting in Takanori’s driveway for at least six or seven hour. He growled and tucked his hand back inside his sleeve. Akira wondered what that little blonde was doing inside the house. Was he sitting there laughing at the idiot in the driveway? Probably not. Was he buried deep inside the covers of his bed sleeping? Possibly, but Akira had a feeling that Takanori didn’t sleep before midnight.
He growled and tucked his knees up further, trying to preserve as much body heat as possible and stop the uncontrollable shaking, the teeth chattering and the ragged breaths that came out as wisps of heat in the cold air. He would wait. He would wait as long as he needed to. Until Takanori was ready to open up to him. Why? Akira had no clue.
Takanori took a sip from the glass of water and leaned against the kitchen bench, dropping his head and heaving a sigh. After he’d calmed down he’d taken a relaxing shower and returned to his recording studio to mess around and do some editing for a song he’d finished recording a few days prior. He guessed that was what he’d have to do for a few days until the pain in his wrist subsided.
Editing took up a fair chunk of time, so when Takanori glanced up at the wall clock in the kitchen he noted that the time was just ticking past one in the morning. He gulped down the rest of his water and placed the glass to later be washed. Raising his eyes he looked out the window above the sink. Takanori’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped.
Through the glass panel overlooking the driveway he could see a lone figure sitting on the ground not too far away from the front door. Though the body was hunched in a tight shivering ball he could clearly see the spiked blonde hair.
“No fucking way…” Takanori mumbled, not believing his eyes.
Leaving the dark kitchen, not having bothered to turn on any lights, Takanori walked swiftly through the house. Turning into the foyer he stopped just short of the front door. Glancing through one of the tall glass panels either side of the door he could see Akira back facing the door. Takanori could see how violently his frame was shaking; he also noticed that Akira hadn’t moved an inch from where the little blonde had thrown him to the ground.
Takanori felt a small tug in his chest. Like there was a string wrapped around his heart and someone was lightly pulling on it. It was a barely-there feeling, but Takanori felt it all the same. Squeezing his eyes shut he reopened them and slowly pulled open the front door and began shivering as the icy wind whirled around his barely covered legs. After showering he’d changed into a fresh pair of shorts and another baggy sweater. He walked out onto the little front step; the marble it was made of was even colder than the wind.
The gravel barely made a sound under his bare feet as he walked towards the boy hunched over in the driveway. Takanori doubted the tall blonde even heard him coming; if the sound of his chattering teeth was anything to go by. The small blonde stood behind him for a moment, debating on what he was to do. But seeing Akira sitting there in the freezing cold and knowing he’d been there for hours on end made Takanori’s usually cold heart melt slightly; as much as he would like to deny it.
Takanori crouched down just behind Akira and placed a hand gently on his shivering shoulder. “Oi, birdbrain.” Even though he used his usual insult for the third year, Takanori’s voice was soft and almost tender.
Akira turned his head to the side just enough to be able to look at Takanori out of the corner of his eyes. The little blonde could feel the elder boy’s shoulder shaking under his hand and he couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad. Studying the tall blonde for a moment the second year stood up and moved around to stand in front of him. Begrudgingly he reached down and took hold Akira sleeve. Gripping a fistful in his small hand Takanori tugged lightly.
“Come on, idiot,” he grumbled. “You’ll freeze to death if you stay out here.”
Akira raised his head and looked up at the boy who had the wrist of his sleeve grasped in his little hand, while the other arm still stayed securely tucked around his legs. “W-w-hat do you c-care if-f I f-free-eze?” He stuttered, his chattering teeth making it difficult to talk.
Takanori rolled his hazel eyes and tugged on the sleeve again, “Just get your stupid arse inside.”
Akira studied him for a moment. He noticed that goosebumps had risen on Takanori’s bare legs and his shoulders were beginning to shake ever so slightly. The little blonde had come outside dressed in far less clothes than him in order to persuade him back inside. A little wave of warmth spread through Akira’s chest at the thought. So instead of causing any more trouble he hauled his shaking frame up off the ground and followed as Takanori lead him inside the warm house.
Once they were back in Takanori’s dark bedroom Akira felt much warmer. The welcoming heat of the house had soaked into his body almost instantly; though a shudder would still ripple through him occasionally. He couldn’t help but feel slightly triumphant, though he knew he wasn’t all the way there yet. The little blonde was yet to give him answers.
Stopping in the middle of the room Takanori turned around and glared up at Akira. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”
Akira chuckled, “Yeah, I guess I am. But you know-”
“You could catch a cold being out there for so long! Do you really think I want to take responsibility for that?
What were you thinking sitting out there for hours like a fool?” Takanori ranted on, tightening his fist.
“Takano-” Akira tried to catch his attention but failed as the little blonde continued on after taking a quick breath.
“And what if I hadn’t noticed you and you’d stayed out there all night? You would’ve been a fucking popsicle by the time I’d found you. You are just so unbelievably stupid!”
“I know. But, Takanori…” Akira looked down at him, a slightly amused curve to his lips.
“What?!” He snapped, still glaring furiously.
“… You can let go of my sleeve now.” Akira glanced down at Takanori’s small hand which was still gripping onto the wrist of his jacket.
The second year’s eye widened as he followed Akira’s gaze. He quickly dropped his hand and shoved it behind his back as his cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of pink. He turned his head to the side and let his slightly damp locks fall across his face, hopefully hiding it.
Akira chuckled, “Takanori, are you blushing?”
“No! Shut the fuck up!” He snapped and took a step back, finally realising how close the two were standing.
“Sure,” Akira dragged out the ‘u’, making sure it was clear he didn’t believe a word Takanori said.
“Just… shut up and go and have a shower. You must still be really cold,” the small blonde said. He just wanted an excuse to get Akira out of the room and save himself from further embarrassment.
Akira nodded; he did have a point. “Alright. Where’s the bathroom?”
Takanori pointed in the direction of the door on the right hand side of his bed, “Over there, there’s a spare towel on the rack as well. Pass your uniform out here and I’ll go and put it in the wash.”
“Thanks,” Akira said as he headed in the direction he was pointed in, disappearing inside.
Once Takanori heard the shower start up and he had Akira’s used uniform in hand he started on his way downstairs. He’d been meaning to put on a load of washing anyway. Gathering all of the used clothes that had travelled down the chute he stuffed them into the washing machine and switched it on. As the hum of the device started up he dropped himself onto the cold tiled floor.
“What the hell was that?” he mumbled to himself as he looked down at the hand he’d used to hold onto Akira’s sleeve. “Why the hell was I blushing?” He couldn’t help but feel slightly aggravated with himself.
After the twenty minutes it took to complete the wash cycle the machine beeped and Takanori stood up, loading the damp clothes into the dryer. Turning it on, he exited the room and returned to the other part of the house. He was sure Akira would be done with his shower so he didn’t bother to knock when he got back to his bedroom.
“Uh, I can probably find-” Takanori stopped in the doorway when his eyes scanned the room noticing Akira on his bed... asleep. The tall blonde was clad in nothing but a towel, leaving his bare muscled chest on display as he sprawled on the king size mattress. Takanori’s breath caught in his throat as he drew closer, examining the fine specimen of human. As much as he liked to hate Akira there was no denying the fact that he was gorgeous. His body looked like something that had been crafted by the angels.
Shaking his head, Takanori snapped out of his little trance long enough to trudge over to the bed. “Oi, birdbrain. You can’t sleep there. Wake up.” He reached down to put his hand on Akira’s shoulder and shake him awake. But as his fingertips brushed his lightly tanned skin Takanori stopped. The tall blonde looked so at peace when he slept. The second year student studied Akira’s calm features for a moment before he sighed and dropped his hand back by his side.
Grumbling, Takanori pulled two pillows off one side of the bed and made himself as comfortable as possible on the floor, tossing and turning until he found a tolerable position. He shut his eyes and found himself drifting off to sleep easier than he thought he would.
‘Stupid birdbrain invading my house, using my bathroom, stealing my bed…’ Takanori thought as his mind finally gave into unconsciousness.
Next Chapter
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A/N: So, I was going to wait a few days to post this chapter seeing as I only just posted something last night. But I couldn't wait. I think this is my favourite chapter so far. From now on the story should really start to pick up a decent pace. Up until now I think I was really focusing on setting up the story etc. But now that you all have a feel for what the character a like I'll be able to really dive into developing relationships and tensions and such.
Also, in case you were wondering, the guitar Taka was going to play is the one from Cassis. It's a lovely cherry red Ibanez guitar: http://www.sheltonsguitars.com/images/2010/8-19-10/ibanez%20afs75t/ibanez%20afs75tDSCN9058.jpg I just thought that'd be a nice little detail to add in because I really like that guitar. And, the first chord he was going to play, which was a B minor, is the first chord in Cassis.
So, anyway. I hope you enjoyed, darlings. And I hope you all had a lovely New Year <3
- R xx
Author: ravennightmare6
Beta: krasivayadusha
Chapter: 5/18
Genre: AU, Angst, Humor, Fluff, Smut
Rating(Overall): NC-17
Pairing/s: Reita/Ruki (Akira/Takanori), Uruha/Aoi (Kouyou/Yuu)
Synopsis: Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.
Warnings: A little violence, Use of real names, Profanity
Disclaimer: As unfortunate as it may be, I do not own The GazettE. I only own the plot.
Comments: At the bottom, darlings <3
Previous Chapter
A/N: Before you read this chapter, darlings, I just want to say a HUGE thank you to my lovely Beta, krasivayadusha. Without her I never would've gotten this chapter done, she helped me out a ton! She's amazing and wonderful in every single way! <3
Ok, enjoy the chapter, lovelies <3
Following Takanori through his elaborately decorated house, Akira stared around in complete and utter awe. He’d never seen anything so amazing in his life. As they walked through the foyer he felt the plush carpet under his sock clad feet, softer than any carpet he’d ever felt before, and when he looked up he saw a glittering crystal chandelier. As they moved forward, the tall blonde glanced through an open door to his left and recognized instantly that it was a brightly lit and very inviting-looking living room. He was able to quickly glimpse a large beige leather lounge suite and the biggest flat screen television he’d seen in his life. In the corner sat a large white grand piano with its lid up, suggesting it’d recently been played. The far wall, instead of just a few windows looking over the yard, was completely comprised of floor to ceiling glass panels.
“Amazing,” Akira mumbled to himself as he continued to follow Takanori up the grand staircase to the upper floor of the house.
He knew Takanori had heard him because the little blonde moved his head to the right and cast his hazel tinted orbs in Akira’s direction, not quite looking at him. The shorter refrained from talking though, only continuing to lead Akira further into the masterpiece of a home.
After turning left at the top of the stairs, Takanori stopped outside the fourth door on the right and put his hand on the shiny silver door handle, pushing open the obstructing piece of wood to reveal a room that was almost completely dark. The heavy black curtains were drawn shut; the only source of light filtering into the room was from either side of the thick material where it didn’t quite reach the end of the window. But once his eyes adjusted to the dark Akira saw that, despite what most people thought a teenager’s bedroom would look like, Takanori’s room was completely spotless. His bed was freshly made, his floor recently vacuumed.
“Have a seat.” Takanori spoke with unmistakable nonchalance in his voice; it was something that Akira had never heard in the two years he’d known the other. The feisty little blonde never ceased to amaze the elder. He always seemed to have some new emotion or reaction to show that Akira had never seen before. It was all a question of why he’d never noticed these emotions before.
Hesitantly wandering further into the dark room, Akira sat in the black desk chair. He was acting out of character, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. With Takanori acting so unlike his usual self it was exceedingly difficult for Akira to feel relaxed like he normally did. And so he sat in the desk chair with his back straight, feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He knew he looked ridiculously formal, but there was little he could do about it. The nagging uneasiness in the pit of his stomach refused to subside.
Takanori studied Akira as he shut the door to his room, momentarily submerging the large space in total darkness before his eyes quickly adjusted. In the dimly lit room he could see Akira sitting in his desk chair looking very much like he’d just had a stick shoved up his arse. The blonde boy was completely rigid, with his large hands clasped tightly in his lap. Takanori furrowed his well-trimmed brows and narrowed his eyes at his company; he looked even more like an idiot now.
Giving Akira an incredulous look, Takanori crawled onto his king size bed and sat with his back against the headboard. He brought his thin legs up, until his thighs pressed against his sweater clad torso, and wrapped his arms around them, tucking himself in a tight little ball. He rested his chin on top of his knees and stared directly at Akira who seemed to be avoiding his eyes at all cost.
Takanori wondered why Akira was even there. The tall blonde had been the last person he’d expected to show up at his doorstep. Why? Why did he care? Why did he think that Takanori would give him any answers? The fact that Akira even thought for a second that Takanori would reveal anything to him made the stupid bird even less intelligent than before; and that was really saying something. But wait… Takanori had revealed things. Things he’d never intended to tell anyone. Ever. He cursed himself for being so careless with his words. He’d always had a temper, but he was usually able to control what he said. So why was the so different when it came to Akira? When he was around the elder blonde, especially when he was angry, what came out of his mouth was like word vomit. He couldn’t control what he said. The third year made him completely lose track of his train of thought. He wondered if things had always been this way between them. Maybe he’d been giving things away to the tall blonde since the day they’d met and he’d just never noticed. All these raging thoughts made Takanori’s head hurt and he had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly in order to force them to subside… for now.
Opening his eyes up again he noticed that Akira was still refusing to look at him. Takanori stared with a bored expression on his usually pretty features and his voice conveyed his obvious boredom perfectly. “What the hell are you doing here, Suzuki?”
Akira suddenly looked at him and scoffed. “Oh, come on Takanori. I know you’re blonde but you aren’t that dumb.”
Takanori curled his top lip in what looked like a snarl, but no noise came out. The little blonde then dropped his gaze, something that was very uncharacteristic of him, to focus on the freshly cleaned bed cover. “Don’t insult me, Akira. I’m not in the mood.”
Not in the mood? Since when was Takanori ever not in the mood for swapping insults? He always had something to say no matter what the situation was. So why was he so withdrawn time? Akira felt like he was going crazy.
Taking a deep breath, Akira figured he may as well just cut to the chase. There was no use in beating around the bush. “I want to know why you haven’t been at school for three fucking weeks. What the hell is going?”
What Akira would have expected to be snarky reply was said with the same nonchalance that had seemed to settle itself in the tone of Takanori’s voice. “I don’t remember that ever being your business, so just drop it.”
“No, I won’t drop it,” Akira scowled at the little blonde; his shitty attitude was quickly making its way under the elder boy’s skin. The roles were reversed; Takanori was that one avoiding eye contact with Akira. “I want to know what’s going on, Takanori.”
“Why should I tell you?” Takanori suddenly raised his eyes to meet Akira’s gaze. A challenge lay underneath the mask of boredom. Takanori wanted the older blonde to tell him exactly why he wanted answers. He wanted him to come up with a valid reason; though he already knew there wouldn’t be one. Akira had no right to know anything about Takanori or his problem. He wished the taller blonde would just butt out.
He recognized the challenge in his eyes straight away. Akira opened his mouth to answer but he fell short of finding the right words. The younger boy was exactly right. Why should Takanori tell him? Akira couldn’t think of a reason, he didn’t have one. But he had his mind set find out what exactly was going on with the little second year. Akira was always a very determined person; once he said he was going to do something he’d always do exactly that. Akira never took no for an answer.
He sighed and scratched the back of his head, “I haven’t got a reason besides the fact that I want to know.”
Takanori scoffed, “Sorry, that’s not going to cut it. You expect me to spill every detail just because you want to know? That’s absolute bullshit.”
Scowling, Akira felt the earlier uneasiness start to subside and he began to slouch in his seat. The annoyance the little blonde made him feel was beginning to feel more normal to him. This was what he was used to; this was the way things were meant to be. Akira couldn’t help but feel slightly more comfortable when he was pissed with Takanori and vice versa, it just felt more normal.
Takanori was also beginning to lose him patience. He clenched his fists and tightened the hold he had on his own legs. He growled through his teeth, “I don’t want you in my house, so why the hell are you still here?”
The blonde third year glared back, clenching his own fists. His short fuse was quickly running out. “I don’t know why I’m still here, alright? But I do kno-”
“If you don’t know then just fucking leave already!” Takanori yelled. Clearly he’d had enough of the elder blonde’s presence. “I don’t want you here, Akira!”
“Let me finish speaking, you rude little shit!” Akira leapt out of the desk chair and strode towards the bed Takanori sat on, an unattractive scowl etched into his usually handsome features. He reached out and took hold of one of the second year’s thin wrists and yanked him forward, causing him to tumble out of his tightly held ball and sit on the bed in front of the older boy with his legs splayed out to the side, needing to lean on his spare hand in order to not fall over. Akira bent so that Takanori’s petit nose almost touched his own covered one. “I don’t know why I’m still here.” His fingers tightened around the younger boy’s wrist. “But I do know that I’m not leave until I get some fucking answers.”
Takanori almost snarled. He yanked on his wrist, trying to free it from Akira’s iron grip, but his attempts were all in vain. He laughed bitterly and glared into Akira’s onyx eyes. “Well you might as well pack up your bags and move in, birdbrain. Because there’s no way I’ll ever answer to you.”
As much as Takanori tried to keep his facial expression as angry as possible he couldn’t help but wince and whimper ever so slightly as Akira’s grip tightened once again. The taller blonde heard the strange noise come from Takanori and blinked a few times, seeming as though he was coming out of some form of trance. He looked down at the tiny, breakable wrist he had in his large hand. H gasped as he released it and pulled back. Takanori cradled his hand against his chest and rubbed his sore wrist, glaring up at the third year.
Akira felt an instant stab of guilt. He hadn’t meant to do that; not at all. What had he been thinking? But that’s just it; he hadn’t been. ‘Stupid,’ he though. ‘I’m so fucking stupid! How could I let my temper get that out of hand?’ He looked down at the abused wrist and noticed the red finger marks left there and they only served to make him feel worse. His eyebrows pulled together in what could only be concern, whether he knew it or not. “Takanori, I’m-”
“Get out!” The little blonde screamed. “Get the fuck out of my house! You fucking arsehole!”
Akira just stood there for a few moments trying to process what he’d just done. Sure, he’d beat Takanori up before; neither of them ever forgot it. It had been a regular part of life up until three weeks ago. But this time hurting him felt… wrong; he’d never meant to do it.
The little blonde glowered at him. “Didn’t you hear me? Are you fucking deaf or something? I said get out!”
“No.”
Takanori’s hazel eyes widened in pure rage, “What did you just say?”
Akira took a deep breath to calm himself. He stood tall, slightly puffing out his chest and balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I said, not. I told you, I’m leaving until I get answers.” He wasn’t about to back down, he never did. It was just in his nature to be stubborn.
The little blonde on the bed stared at him as if he were some kind of alien. He figured Takanori was totally taken aback by his blatant refusal to leave. It made Akira wonder if the second year had ever let anyone else inside his house. Probably not, considering how horrible Takanori was at making friends. He felt a small surge of pride in the pit of his stomach. Knowing that he’d been the first to enter this part of Takanori’s life made him want to grin in triumph. But he felt that if he did that he may get the heaviest nearby object thrown at his head, which didn’t feel very appealing to him in the slightest.
All of a sudden Takanori had launched himself off the bed taking a hold of Akira’s wrist with the hand that wasn’t attached to his own injured one. The tall blonde was ruthlessly jerked forward; being pulled towards the bedroom door which Takanori flung open and exited, Akira in tow. The little blonde had a surprisingly strong grip and, between the shock of suddenly being treated like a rag doll and the iron grip around his wrist, he couldn’t seem to break free.
Pulling the front door open Takanori flung Akira outside so hard the tall blonde tripped down the small front step and landed hard on the gravel of the driveway, scraping his hands and knees in the process. He hissed in pain as he sat up and whipped his head to see the enraged second year standing in the doorway breathing heavily, a dark scowl etched into his usually flawless brow. Takanori looked as though he was about to murder someone and Akira figured that someone was most likely him; though that didn’t make him want to leave. Not at all. He still needed to get his answers.
Takanori slammed the door shut, no doubt disappearing back into his bedroom. Akira sat up and hissed again as he brought his hands up to assess the damage that’d been done. He had scrapes all over his palms and a small amount of blood oozed from the freshly opened wounds and when he pulled up the legs of his school trousers he noticed his knees were in no better shape. But still he stayed where he was, not moving an inch from where he sat in the middle of the gravel driveway outside Takanori’s door. He would stay. He didn’t care how long it took. He would stay until Takanori opened that door and gave him the answers he desired so intensely.
Meanwhile, inside the large mansion, Takanori closed the door to his favourite room and slid down the wood until his backside hit the soft carpeted floor. He looked around the room; though his mind was still racing its contents brought an instant wave of calm upon him. The room contained numerous guitars and basses in their stands, drum kit in the corner, a keyboard sitting on its stand in front of a piano stool, as well a microphone and computer. His recording studio. His sanctuary. The place he would never let anyone see. It was the place Takanori spent ninety per cent of his time. It was the room in which he poured his feelings out without fear of them ever being seen or heard by anyone. It was his ultimate safe place.
…The only place he ever cried.
Takanori loathed crying. It made him look weak. It meant that the stress of the world was making his impeccably built walls crumble to nothing but a fine dust. He tried with all his might to keep the salty weakness inside but he was powerless to stop it. All at once every little scrap of pent up emotion came flowing out in trails of tears, staining his cheeks and dripping onto the over-sized black sweater he wore. He hated himself when he looked like this. So broken. So helpless. What was wrong with him? Letting something to simple break his defences was stupid.
If felt as though years had passed when, in reality, it’d only been a few hours. Even that was a long time for someone to cry. Takanori finally felt his tear ducts run dry, but still, he didn’t move an inch. The sun had long ago set; it must’ve been at least nine o’clock by the time the little blonde finally stood up on wobbly legs, needing to momentarily brace himself against the door. Taking a shaky breath he wiped away the remainder of the dried up tears. There was no doubt in Takanori’s mind that his eyes were red and puffy, but he had no concerns about that at the time.
Making it to the chair by the computer desk, he plopped down in it and wheeled it over to his electric guitar stand, picking up his favourite cherry red Ibanez. Sometimes he thought he looked a little odd with the instrument because its round body seemed so large against his own small frame. But he loved the guitar too much to really care. Its glossy body reflected the light of the desk lamp next to the high quality desktop computer and expensive recording equipment. Takanori plugged the guitar into one of the numerous amps in the room and turned up the volume. Taking a black pick off the desk he brought his right hand to the where the strings sat near the bridge and gave a single strum to check that the instrument was in tune. Deciding that it was, he raised his left hand to the neck. However, when he pressed his fingers down on the strings in a B minor chord he hissed and dropped the hand.
Looking down at his left wrist he scowled. It was the one Akira had grabbed and nearly squeezed the life out of. The marks of his fingers were still there, quickly turning into a painful bruise. Takanori tried the chord again only to come across the same result; a sharp jab of pain. Clearly if he moved the appendage the wrong way it would hurt, and that mean he wouldn’t be able to play any instrument for at least a few days.
“Fuck!” Takanori yelled and threw his pick across the room, managing to hit the cymbal of the drum kit. Akira always seemed to cause troubles for him. Thanks to that stupid third year Takanori had been robbed of his only source of comfort. What was he to do now? Wallow in self-hate and have his own little pity party? Not likely, but those seemed like the most plausible options seeing as he had no way of relieving his stress. The pent up anxieties would soon burst and he could do things much worse than cry.
Placing the guitar back on its stand the little blonde leaned back in the chair. He let a rush of air leave his lungs. What was he going to do? All he’d done for three weeks was compose and record, compose and record in order supress the bubbling emotions inside him, and now that his source of relief was gone he felt like he might explode.
***
“Dammit, it’s cold.” Akira shivered as he pulled his school jacket tighter around himself. Being outside at night during winter was possibly one of the stupidest decisions the blonde ever made. But he wouldn’t give up; he wouldn’t leave Takanori alone until he got what he wanted.
His shoulders shook violently as he checked his watch; almost midnight. He’d been sitting in Takanori’s driveway for at least six or seven hour. He growled and tucked his hand back inside his sleeve. Akira wondered what that little blonde was doing inside the house. Was he sitting there laughing at the idiot in the driveway? Probably not. Was he buried deep inside the covers of his bed sleeping? Possibly, but Akira had a feeling that Takanori didn’t sleep before midnight.
He growled and tucked his knees up further, trying to preserve as much body heat as possible and stop the uncontrollable shaking, the teeth chattering and the ragged breaths that came out as wisps of heat in the cold air. He would wait. He would wait as long as he needed to. Until Takanori was ready to open up to him. Why? Akira had no clue.
Takanori took a sip from the glass of water and leaned against the kitchen bench, dropping his head and heaving a sigh. After he’d calmed down he’d taken a relaxing shower and returned to his recording studio to mess around and do some editing for a song he’d finished recording a few days prior. He guessed that was what he’d have to do for a few days until the pain in his wrist subsided.
Editing took up a fair chunk of time, so when Takanori glanced up at the wall clock in the kitchen he noted that the time was just ticking past one in the morning. He gulped down the rest of his water and placed the glass to later be washed. Raising his eyes he looked out the window above the sink. Takanori’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped.
Through the glass panel overlooking the driveway he could see a lone figure sitting on the ground not too far away from the front door. Though the body was hunched in a tight shivering ball he could clearly see the spiked blonde hair.
“No fucking way…” Takanori mumbled, not believing his eyes.
Leaving the dark kitchen, not having bothered to turn on any lights, Takanori walked swiftly through the house. Turning into the foyer he stopped just short of the front door. Glancing through one of the tall glass panels either side of the door he could see Akira back facing the door. Takanori could see how violently his frame was shaking; he also noticed that Akira hadn’t moved an inch from where the little blonde had thrown him to the ground.
Takanori felt a small tug in his chest. Like there was a string wrapped around his heart and someone was lightly pulling on it. It was a barely-there feeling, but Takanori felt it all the same. Squeezing his eyes shut he reopened them and slowly pulled open the front door and began shivering as the icy wind whirled around his barely covered legs. After showering he’d changed into a fresh pair of shorts and another baggy sweater. He walked out onto the little front step; the marble it was made of was even colder than the wind.
The gravel barely made a sound under his bare feet as he walked towards the boy hunched over in the driveway. Takanori doubted the tall blonde even heard him coming; if the sound of his chattering teeth was anything to go by. The small blonde stood behind him for a moment, debating on what he was to do. But seeing Akira sitting there in the freezing cold and knowing he’d been there for hours on end made Takanori’s usually cold heart melt slightly; as much as he would like to deny it.
Takanori crouched down just behind Akira and placed a hand gently on his shivering shoulder. “Oi, birdbrain.” Even though he used his usual insult for the third year, Takanori’s voice was soft and almost tender.
Akira turned his head to the side just enough to be able to look at Takanori out of the corner of his eyes. The little blonde could feel the elder boy’s shoulder shaking under his hand and he couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad. Studying the tall blonde for a moment the second year stood up and moved around to stand in front of him. Begrudgingly he reached down and took hold Akira sleeve. Gripping a fistful in his small hand Takanori tugged lightly.
“Come on, idiot,” he grumbled. “You’ll freeze to death if you stay out here.”
Akira raised his head and looked up at the boy who had the wrist of his sleeve grasped in his little hand, while the other arm still stayed securely tucked around his legs. “W-w-hat do you c-care if-f I f-free-eze?” He stuttered, his chattering teeth making it difficult to talk.
Takanori rolled his hazel eyes and tugged on the sleeve again, “Just get your stupid arse inside.”
Akira studied him for a moment. He noticed that goosebumps had risen on Takanori’s bare legs and his shoulders were beginning to shake ever so slightly. The little blonde had come outside dressed in far less clothes than him in order to persuade him back inside. A little wave of warmth spread through Akira’s chest at the thought. So instead of causing any more trouble he hauled his shaking frame up off the ground and followed as Takanori lead him inside the warm house.
Once they were back in Takanori’s dark bedroom Akira felt much warmer. The welcoming heat of the house had soaked into his body almost instantly; though a shudder would still ripple through him occasionally. He couldn’t help but feel slightly triumphant, though he knew he wasn’t all the way there yet. The little blonde was yet to give him answers.
Stopping in the middle of the room Takanori turned around and glared up at Akira. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”
Akira chuckled, “Yeah, I guess I am. But you know-”
“You could catch a cold being out there for so long! Do you really think I want to take responsibility for that?
What were you thinking sitting out there for hours like a fool?” Takanori ranted on, tightening his fist.
“Takano-” Akira tried to catch his attention but failed as the little blonde continued on after taking a quick breath.
“And what if I hadn’t noticed you and you’d stayed out there all night? You would’ve been a fucking popsicle by the time I’d found you. You are just so unbelievably stupid!”
“I know. But, Takanori…” Akira looked down at him, a slightly amused curve to his lips.
“What?!” He snapped, still glaring furiously.
“… You can let go of my sleeve now.” Akira glanced down at Takanori’s small hand which was still gripping onto the wrist of his jacket.
The second year’s eye widened as he followed Akira’s gaze. He quickly dropped his hand and shoved it behind his back as his cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of pink. He turned his head to the side and let his slightly damp locks fall across his face, hopefully hiding it.
Akira chuckled, “Takanori, are you blushing?”
“No! Shut the fuck up!” He snapped and took a step back, finally realising how close the two were standing.
“Sure,” Akira dragged out the ‘u’, making sure it was clear he didn’t believe a word Takanori said.
“Just… shut up and go and have a shower. You must still be really cold,” the small blonde said. He just wanted an excuse to get Akira out of the room and save himself from further embarrassment.
Akira nodded; he did have a point. “Alright. Where’s the bathroom?”
Takanori pointed in the direction of the door on the right hand side of his bed, “Over there, there’s a spare towel on the rack as well. Pass your uniform out here and I’ll go and put it in the wash.”
“Thanks,” Akira said as he headed in the direction he was pointed in, disappearing inside.
Once Takanori heard the shower start up and he had Akira’s used uniform in hand he started on his way downstairs. He’d been meaning to put on a load of washing anyway. Gathering all of the used clothes that had travelled down the chute he stuffed them into the washing machine and switched it on. As the hum of the device started up he dropped himself onto the cold tiled floor.
“What the hell was that?” he mumbled to himself as he looked down at the hand he’d used to hold onto Akira’s sleeve. “Why the hell was I blushing?” He couldn’t help but feel slightly aggravated with himself.
After the twenty minutes it took to complete the wash cycle the machine beeped and Takanori stood up, loading the damp clothes into the dryer. Turning it on, he exited the room and returned to the other part of the house. He was sure Akira would be done with his shower so he didn’t bother to knock when he got back to his bedroom.
“Uh, I can probably find-” Takanori stopped in the doorway when his eyes scanned the room noticing Akira on his bed... asleep. The tall blonde was clad in nothing but a towel, leaving his bare muscled chest on display as he sprawled on the king size mattress. Takanori’s breath caught in his throat as he drew closer, examining the fine specimen of human. As much as he liked to hate Akira there was no denying the fact that he was gorgeous. His body looked like something that had been crafted by the angels.
Shaking his head, Takanori snapped out of his little trance long enough to trudge over to the bed. “Oi, birdbrain. You can’t sleep there. Wake up.” He reached down to put his hand on Akira’s shoulder and shake him awake. But as his fingertips brushed his lightly tanned skin Takanori stopped. The tall blonde looked so at peace when he slept. The second year student studied Akira’s calm features for a moment before he sighed and dropped his hand back by his side.
Grumbling, Takanori pulled two pillows off one side of the bed and made himself as comfortable as possible on the floor, tossing and turning until he found a tolerable position. He shut his eyes and found himself drifting off to sleep easier than he thought he would.
‘Stupid birdbrain invading my house, using my bathroom, stealing my bed…’ Takanori thought as his mind finally gave into unconsciousness.
Next Chapter
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A/N: So, I was going to wait a few days to post this chapter seeing as I only just posted something last night. But I couldn't wait. I think this is my favourite chapter so far. From now on the story should really start to pick up a decent pace. Up until now I think I was really focusing on setting up the story etc. But now that you all have a feel for what the character a like I'll be able to really dive into developing relationships and tensions and such.
Also, in case you were wondering, the guitar Taka was going to play is the one from Cassis. It's a lovely cherry red Ibanez guitar: http://www.sheltonsguitars.com/images/2010/8-19-10/ibanez%20afs75t/ibanez%20afs75tDSCN9058.jpg I just thought that'd be a nice little detail to add in because I really like that guitar. And, the first chord he was going to play, which was a B minor, is the first chord in Cassis.
So, anyway. I hope you enjoyed, darlings. And I hope you all had a lovely New Year <3
- R xx