[Uraboku] Ephemeral
Title: Ephemeral
Author: masanami
Character(s): Hotsuma/Shusei
Word Count: 1,620
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: There's only one person that can ease Shusei's insecurities.
Author's Note: My newest obsession ♥ Just a little something to get myself into the characters. I need to get out of this semi-hiatus with writing and get some work done. When I started this it felt like I had completely forgotten how to write orz I hope it turns out okay!
There was no reason to be awake at this hour.
The window was closed, locked before the slightly drawn curtains that Shusei traced with the edge of his fingertips. The fabric of the curtains was soft; delicate folds that bent easily underneath the clenched fingers of his fist. He stood before the slight part of the window and gazed out at the moonbeam lighted gardens of the Twilight mansion; of well-manicured lawns and forested perfection. Even in the darkness of the night he could make out the churning rapids of the fountains that lay scattered throughout, their gurgling bubble noiseless from his perched spot even if the shimmering of the water’s reflection twinkled through the night sky. He could almost imagine the way the pebble-paved ground would feel under his step, the slight give under his weight, the shift of hard and coarse material against one another. This hidden place was tucked away from the outside world, so perfectly nestled and displaced within it’s own reality. There was something unsettling about that thought, something that screamed to him as wrong, as if it’s existence was a very denial of the world that lay outside-the world riddled with darkness and hatred, crime and passion-but maybe he was even more of a fool for thinking those things didn’t exist here as well.
The days he had spent here seemed to blur together until Shusei wasn’t quite sure when the first day had begun and tomorrow had become today. The days and thoughts of this place drift through his subconscious as easily as his feet shift weight between them. Did it even really matter? There wasn’t a point in keeping track of the days, months, or even years he had been here. There was nothing in that outside world that he needed-everything was right here or there wouldn’t be a reason to stay. If that one person wasn’t here then he would have left this place long ago, following him where-ever he chose to go. Everyday here was filled with forward motion, drawing them nearer and closer to the intense battles with the Duras, risking their lives for the sake of a battle that spanned thousands of years. Shusei wondered if it was strange, that he could so easily throw that all away at a single word from the one person he cared about the most. This wasn’t about Duras, or this gentle version of Yuki, or even the strange dark haired Luka that watched him with careful eyes.
There was only one person that mattered to Shusei. It had always been that one person.
Hotsuma. He was everything.
This place was better for Hotsuma than the outside world had been-here he could find a measure of comfort, of belonging, of closeness that was so unattainable before. Maybe he didn’t realize it yet, but Shusei saw it. Here there was no more blame, no more yelling or screaming…yet still…
Hotsuma was acting unsettled. More than normal, to the point that it suffocated the stale air between them and his gaze drowned him in a measure of sadness that troubled his very soul. It was probably the scars that did it, that brought that heavy-lidded gaze into those dark eyes. He should have been more careful, avoided the wash room until he was certain that Hotsuma was gone. His slip had cost him the price of seeing those sad eyes.
He hated those eyes.
His fingers slipped from between the curtains and the small opening that he had created lay flickering in the space between star shimmering windowsills. The bed at the center of the room was large and lonely, but still Shusei meandered toward it until he collapsed onto the thick sheets that enveloped around him. He lay on his side, curled inward and eyes gazing toward the faint opening of the window. Even though the moon’s light illuminated pale shapes onto the floor, he couldn’t bring himself to draw the curtains shut.
“Hotsuma…” The name was a whisper on his lips as his eyes closed and bathed his world in darkness. That person invaded every crevasse of his mind and soul, and even under the sheets, a cold shudder traveled down his spine, tingling the fibers of his very being.
It was hard to sleep in this discomfort. The moment his eyes closed, he felt himself chased away by memories of the past. They churned forward time and time again, and he was powerless to the turbulence those memories brought him. He remembered being unwanted by his parents, rejected from their love despite how desperately he tried to do everything to please them-the best manners, the absolute obedience, the highest grades-none of that mattered. Hours spent practicing piano, until his callused fingers ached from fatigue, meant nothing to the people that were supposed to care for him the most. How long had he struggled for their acceptance before he finally gave away the hope for ever attaining it?
There was only one person that had ever really seen him…
The sound of the door opening broke him from his thoughts, but Shusei lay perfectly still within the tangle of sheets. The gingerly placed steps barely made a sound against the wooden floor, just the soft and delicate pad of bare feet maneuvering through the still and quiet darkness of his bedroom. Shusei stayed placid even when he felt the groaning give of the mattress as the body crawled onto the bed. The covers shifted and a brief moment of coldness swept underneath the sheets before they closed and a new warmth spread in the space around him.
When was the last time Hotsuma had crawled into his bed in the middle of the night?
Shusei knew Hotsuma well enough to know that this wasn’t an isolated incident. There were more than enough times since they had been living in this mansion where Shusei would come to his room to sleep, only to find Hotsuma nestled already within the confines of his blankets. But there was something different about this. Since Yuki’s arrival Hotsuma had been agitated, and the change that Yuki’s presence had brought to the world they had built around themselves was something that neither of them could ignore. Like Takashiro had always told them, they were programmed to love Yuki and Hotsuma was no different, regardless of his fiery temperament and hostility, Shusei could see the longing in his eyes to make a connection with this new person. Hotsuma always wanted those connections, no matter how desperately he tried to hide it behind an attitude of indifference, Shusei always saw right through it. And the fact that he saw through it sparked a sharp pain through his chest and made him doubt. It made him doubt everything.
And he hated himself for it.
Because even if Hotsuma didn’t realize it, there were things that Shusei was sure of-there was no doubt in his mind that Yuki was going to change everything. Yuki was going to help Hotsuma, save him in a way that he never could-he was going to be the one to ease the suffering that a lifetime of pain had inflicted upon him. Wasn’t that Yuki’s purpose after all? Hotsuma would love Yuki, he would be healed by him and he wouldn’t need-
Shusei’s eyes snapped open as he felt the warmth of arms wrap around his waist.
Those arms gripped him tightly, pulling his back against a solid chest that rose and fell with each deep breath. It made a shudder slither down his spine as he felt hot breath against his neck, the tingling of wispy blonde strands against his skin as Hotsuma’s nose dug into the corner of his neck, breathing in the scent of his hair. Hotsuma’s hands were warm against him, fingertips gripping at the end of his shirt, a light touch tasting the soft flesh of his abdomen. His fingertips were callused and rough, hardened from years spent wielding flames and a sword forged from the abilities he so hated. But those very fingertips wound across him delicately-encasing him in their embrace, unwilling to let him go.
Hotsuma sighed gently. His entire body seemed to relax against him, bare feet finding his own, furthering the intimate tangle of limbs.
Shusei wanted to bury his face in his hands, but nothing in the world could compel him to move. He didn’t want Hotsuma to know he was still awake, that on this night-of all nights-just sleeping beside him wasn’t enough. He listened to that gentle breathing until it eased into the depths of slumber, until Hotsuma fell asleep against him, legs and limbs entwined and holding him close.
A long sigh etched it’s way between Shusei’s lips and his eyelids lay partially closed, not willing to completely shut out the world even as the shift of the body next to him moved in the rhythm of slumber.
Even as the moonlight streamed in from the window and played with shapes and shadows upon the walls, Shusei felt the pumping need to turn and look at Hotsuma. He wanted to not only feel his presence, but see him-speak to him, envelope every part into him until there was nothing that could make him doubt the existence of the presence right beside him. He hated himself for his own insecurities in wanting it, in being unable to have that honesty that so moved Hotsuma to act and speak what he felt pounding inside his chest. Shusei knew he had neither the strength nor bravery to speak for the things he longed for.
But for now he could find comfort in the gentle breathing beside him.
It was a comfort only Hotsuma could provide.
Author: masanami
Character(s): Hotsuma/Shusei
Word Count: 1,620
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: There's only one person that can ease Shusei's insecurities.
Author's Note: My newest obsession ♥ Just a little something to get myself into the characters. I need to get out of this semi-hiatus with writing and get some work done. When I started this it felt like I had completely forgotten how to write orz I hope it turns out okay!
There was no reason to be awake at this hour.
The window was closed, locked before the slightly drawn curtains that Shusei traced with the edge of his fingertips. The fabric of the curtains was soft; delicate folds that bent easily underneath the clenched fingers of his fist. He stood before the slight part of the window and gazed out at the moonbeam lighted gardens of the Twilight mansion; of well-manicured lawns and forested perfection. Even in the darkness of the night he could make out the churning rapids of the fountains that lay scattered throughout, their gurgling bubble noiseless from his perched spot even if the shimmering of the water’s reflection twinkled through the night sky. He could almost imagine the way the pebble-paved ground would feel under his step, the slight give under his weight, the shift of hard and coarse material against one another. This hidden place was tucked away from the outside world, so perfectly nestled and displaced within it’s own reality. There was something unsettling about that thought, something that screamed to him as wrong, as if it’s existence was a very denial of the world that lay outside-the world riddled with darkness and hatred, crime and passion-but maybe he was even more of a fool for thinking those things didn’t exist here as well.
The days he had spent here seemed to blur together until Shusei wasn’t quite sure when the first day had begun and tomorrow had become today. The days and thoughts of this place drift through his subconscious as easily as his feet shift weight between them. Did it even really matter? There wasn’t a point in keeping track of the days, months, or even years he had been here. There was nothing in that outside world that he needed-everything was right here or there wouldn’t be a reason to stay. If that one person wasn’t here then he would have left this place long ago, following him where-ever he chose to go. Everyday here was filled with forward motion, drawing them nearer and closer to the intense battles with the Duras, risking their lives for the sake of a battle that spanned thousands of years. Shusei wondered if it was strange, that he could so easily throw that all away at a single word from the one person he cared about the most. This wasn’t about Duras, or this gentle version of Yuki, or even the strange dark haired Luka that watched him with careful eyes.
There was only one person that mattered to Shusei. It had always been that one person.
Hotsuma. He was everything.
This place was better for Hotsuma than the outside world had been-here he could find a measure of comfort, of belonging, of closeness that was so unattainable before. Maybe he didn’t realize it yet, but Shusei saw it. Here there was no more blame, no more yelling or screaming…yet still…
Hotsuma was acting unsettled. More than normal, to the point that it suffocated the stale air between them and his gaze drowned him in a measure of sadness that troubled his very soul. It was probably the scars that did it, that brought that heavy-lidded gaze into those dark eyes. He should have been more careful, avoided the wash room until he was certain that Hotsuma was gone. His slip had cost him the price of seeing those sad eyes.
He hated those eyes.
His fingers slipped from between the curtains and the small opening that he had created lay flickering in the space between star shimmering windowsills. The bed at the center of the room was large and lonely, but still Shusei meandered toward it until he collapsed onto the thick sheets that enveloped around him. He lay on his side, curled inward and eyes gazing toward the faint opening of the window. Even though the moon’s light illuminated pale shapes onto the floor, he couldn’t bring himself to draw the curtains shut.
“Hotsuma…” The name was a whisper on his lips as his eyes closed and bathed his world in darkness. That person invaded every crevasse of his mind and soul, and even under the sheets, a cold shudder traveled down his spine, tingling the fibers of his very being.
It was hard to sleep in this discomfort. The moment his eyes closed, he felt himself chased away by memories of the past. They churned forward time and time again, and he was powerless to the turbulence those memories brought him. He remembered being unwanted by his parents, rejected from their love despite how desperately he tried to do everything to please them-the best manners, the absolute obedience, the highest grades-none of that mattered. Hours spent practicing piano, until his callused fingers ached from fatigue, meant nothing to the people that were supposed to care for him the most. How long had he struggled for their acceptance before he finally gave away the hope for ever attaining it?
There was only one person that had ever really seen him…
The sound of the door opening broke him from his thoughts, but Shusei lay perfectly still within the tangle of sheets. The gingerly placed steps barely made a sound against the wooden floor, just the soft and delicate pad of bare feet maneuvering through the still and quiet darkness of his bedroom. Shusei stayed placid even when he felt the groaning give of the mattress as the body crawled onto the bed. The covers shifted and a brief moment of coldness swept underneath the sheets before they closed and a new warmth spread in the space around him.
When was the last time Hotsuma had crawled into his bed in the middle of the night?
Shusei knew Hotsuma well enough to know that this wasn’t an isolated incident. There were more than enough times since they had been living in this mansion where Shusei would come to his room to sleep, only to find Hotsuma nestled already within the confines of his blankets. But there was something different about this. Since Yuki’s arrival Hotsuma had been agitated, and the change that Yuki’s presence had brought to the world they had built around themselves was something that neither of them could ignore. Like Takashiro had always told them, they were programmed to love Yuki and Hotsuma was no different, regardless of his fiery temperament and hostility, Shusei could see the longing in his eyes to make a connection with this new person. Hotsuma always wanted those connections, no matter how desperately he tried to hide it behind an attitude of indifference, Shusei always saw right through it. And the fact that he saw through it sparked a sharp pain through his chest and made him doubt. It made him doubt everything.
And he hated himself for it.
Because even if Hotsuma didn’t realize it, there were things that Shusei was sure of-there was no doubt in his mind that Yuki was going to change everything. Yuki was going to help Hotsuma, save him in a way that he never could-he was going to be the one to ease the suffering that a lifetime of pain had inflicted upon him. Wasn’t that Yuki’s purpose after all? Hotsuma would love Yuki, he would be healed by him and he wouldn’t need-
Shusei’s eyes snapped open as he felt the warmth of arms wrap around his waist.
Those arms gripped him tightly, pulling his back against a solid chest that rose and fell with each deep breath. It made a shudder slither down his spine as he felt hot breath against his neck, the tingling of wispy blonde strands against his skin as Hotsuma’s nose dug into the corner of his neck, breathing in the scent of his hair. Hotsuma’s hands were warm against him, fingertips gripping at the end of his shirt, a light touch tasting the soft flesh of his abdomen. His fingertips were callused and rough, hardened from years spent wielding flames and a sword forged from the abilities he so hated. But those very fingertips wound across him delicately-encasing him in their embrace, unwilling to let him go.
Hotsuma sighed gently. His entire body seemed to relax against him, bare feet finding his own, furthering the intimate tangle of limbs.
Shusei wanted to bury his face in his hands, but nothing in the world could compel him to move. He didn’t want Hotsuma to know he was still awake, that on this night-of all nights-just sleeping beside him wasn’t enough. He listened to that gentle breathing until it eased into the depths of slumber, until Hotsuma fell asleep against him, legs and limbs entwined and holding him close.
A long sigh etched it’s way between Shusei’s lips and his eyelids lay partially closed, not willing to completely shut out the world even as the shift of the body next to him moved in the rhythm of slumber.
Even as the moonlight streamed in from the window and played with shapes and shadows upon the walls, Shusei felt the pumping need to turn and look at Hotsuma. He wanted to not only feel his presence, but see him-speak to him, envelope every part into him until there was nothing that could make him doubt the existence of the presence right beside him. He hated himself for his own insecurities in wanting it, in being unable to have that honesty that so moved Hotsuma to act and speak what he felt pounding inside his chest. Shusei knew he had neither the strength nor bravery to speak for the things he longed for.
But for now he could find comfort in the gentle breathing beside him.
It was a comfort only Hotsuma could provide.