Smile, Sweet Smile
Chapter: One-shot.
Category: Nabari no Ou/Kuroshitsuji
Genre: Friendship/Romance
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None, only slightly hints.
Comment: AU. Whore!Miharu. Written fully to the sound of Michael Jackson's Blood On The Dance Floor. Potentially my friends' wet dream. I blame you all, #capslock_nabari.
Smile, Sweet Smile
By Lily M.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
He laid there, on his bed, staring at the ceiling as if it were his companion. One arm was hanging lazily against to the side, the other lying against his stomach. The bed, it was cold, but soft and it even smelled good - he suspected it fully antagonized the beds the other occupant of the room often shared, and at times wondered why he was given such privileges in the house.
The reason he usually reached was the one he was quick to try and forget.
“There’s nothing to it, really.” The other’s shirt was of a silk-like fabric, so thin and cool it was like touching pure water. It matched his dark hair perfectly.
And he hated when he wore it.
The arm resting against his stomach moved to annoyingly rub his left eye, palm down; the right eye completely out of view, hidden. The eye patch often looked heavy and crude against his pale skin. After the annoyance ritual, he glanced at his friend out of the corner of his one eye, watching him as he threw his head back, body curving as if dancing.
Every time he moved, it was like a different dance. And most of them were like the passionate, sensual Latin dances.
He really hated it.
When he turned to him, he wore the usual smirk on his lips. Never a smile - it was funny how the gesture was foreign to him.
“Are you in one of those moods again?” His voice was not deep in the least, but it wasn’t exactly of a high pitch either. And it was never too loud, or too low for that matter. He supposed this was what siren songs should have been like.
“What moods?” He asked, clenching his jaw. He had long stopped looking at him, preferring to watch the unmoving ceiling instead. It was much calmer this way. Even though he knew they were going to get in a fight again.
“Whenever you talk about my job…” He hated when he called it that. As if it were an honorable, distinct job like being a lawyer or a doctor. It wasn’t like he ignored how much that kind of job was everywhere - but that didn’t make it any more right. “… It’s because you’re missing him again.”
He remembered his friend saying, “Sex moves people, and people move the world.”
He pretended not to hear.
“I’m not missing anyone.”
The other moved close, so close to him. Hands supporting him against the bed frame and the mattress. He could practically feel the next words on his face when he spoke next.
“Of course you aren’t. That’s why you try to focus on me instead, isn’t it?”
The smirk was there again, and so was the best glare he could manage in reply. His blue eyes were darker than they should be, and his friend’s were brighter than they usually were. He wondered if they only shined with that feeling - probably mischief - for him. It would have made him slightly proud, if he could.
His hands were cold against his skin when he touched him, dancing against his bellybutton. It made his breath pause a bit, slightly taken off-guard even though he wasn’t. But he was always so cold.
“Yousei…”
He breathed his name, like always. Soon, his tongue danced a slow rhythm against his lips, and his fingers drew slow patterns on him. Yousei didn’t even close his eyes, but oh did the other did, clenching Yousei’s shirt with probably too much force than he should. It definitely did feel like water.
His one blue eye opened again when Yousei placed a chaste kiss against his forehead and backed away, all the touches and kisses and warmth going away at once like they had never even been there. Sometimes, the cold in that room was almost unbearable.
“Hey Smile, smile.” He did not. “I’m sure you’ll meet him again one day, that guardian of yours.”
“He’s not my guardian.” He sat up, and as soon as he did, Yousei undid the ribbon of his eye patch. The right eye remained closed for a few seconds, before the dancing fiend ran his thumb gently against the eyelid, and soon, a single violet eye was glaring at him, along with the blue one.
Yousei was sure the heterochromia was someone’s fetish, out there. He was glad Smile was not in that world, he probably would never be left alone.
“Of course, he isn’t.” His face was close again, by millimeters, and gave Smile a playful push on the forehead. “I bet he was some sort of demon who got you charmed to him all these years, since you keep on denying how much you like him.”
Smile, who never smiled, was sure to have growled deep in his throat at that time. Yousei giggled, and waltzed towards the door.
“Yousei…”
“I’ll be back before the morning comes. Don’t wait up for me.”
And with that he left.
He hated Yousei’s attitude, quirks, mannerisms. He hated how he left for so long, and how cold he was when he was around. He hated how slickly he walked, how his voiced sounded like liquid velvet, and how he knew exactly where to touch him. But as long as Yousei was there, he managed to remain with only a distant longing about his past.
One day, Yousei left and never came back. Madam Red said that he left with a boy with bright blue eyes. Smile then assumed the shimmer in his eyes weren’t just for him, after all.
And one day, Smile was left with his demons.