Shopping for Love - Aoi/Uruha - Oneshot
Title: Shopping for Love
Chapter: oneshot
Author: tokyorockstar
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha
Genre: Romance, Fluff, Humour
Rating: PG-13
Synopsis: "I'm sorry Sir, but only one person can enter the fitting room at a time."
Warnings: Very mild implied smut
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, etc.
Shopping for Love
Uruha didn’t know how things had turned out to be like this.
Well, he did, sort of, but he sure didn’t want to admit it.
It all started with a typical Friday night after work. Like an idiot, he had gone home and gotten drunk in his own living room, as usual. Fans these days seemed to be getting richer, so Uruha’s apartment had a never-ending supply of champagnes and wines.
But like an even bigger idiot, he had managed to write on his blog while he was drunk. While there were certainly many typos and indecipherable words, somehow amidst all the grammatically incorrect junk, he had managed to type
I love you Aoi love solog a for so longit hurts I realaly do loveyo u
And it had to be that line, of the entire entry of seemingly mindless gobbledygook, that required the least deciphering.
Of course, being drunk, he didn’t privatize the entry.
Which, in turn, led to the incident the following morning at the recording studio.
“Uruha, were you fucking drunk last night?” Aoi was chuckling while staring at his phone.
“What are you talking about?” Uruha asked.
The two of them were smoking in one of the small waiting rooms. It was unusual that they were the first to arrive since Kai was anal about starting everything on time and would usually arrive earlier to check on things.
“Your blog,” Aoi replied, still grinning.
Uruha hadn’t seen him grin like that in a long time. Actually, they hadn’t talked a lot, over the past year, or was it two, he couldn’t remember. Conversations that were not about work hardly surfaced between them anymore, and they were both aware of it.
So the fact that Aoi was chuckling and reading Uruha’s blog made it doubly intriguing.
“You read my blog?”
Aoi shrugged, extracting the cigarette from his lips and exhaling slowly.
“Occassionally.”
Uruha walked over and grabbed the phone, reading the tiny text with furrowed eyebrows.
“Man, I can’t believe I wrote all this crap last night, I don’t even know what I’m talking about…”
“No, wait, see here?” Aoi grabbed the phone back and scrolled down. He pointed to the bottom line. That line.
The words were screaming at Uruha.
“Oh. Fuck.”
Aoi laughed again.
“Dude, did you just confess your love for me? In public?” Aoi shook his head. “Better go edit that entry now, you don’t want to mislead fans and risk suicide.”
Uruha didn’t answer. He slowly sunk back down onto the couch, not even noticing the cigarette ash falling on top of his shoes.
“What’s the matter?”
No answer.
Uruha simply stared blankly ahead.
How on earth did I manage to write that out and let Aoi see it…
“Come on,” Aoi tried again, giving Uruha a gentle shove and a cat-like grin.
“What? You’re all embarrassed? Cuz you’e in love with me?”
At that, Uruha finally turned his gaze to meet Aoi’s eyes.
Their eyes bore into one another’s for a moment - Uruha’s slightly faltering and panicked; Aoi’s steely and confused.
And then there was understanding.
Aoi’s lips parted slightly at what he saw in those eyes. Seven years together (even though the past two didn’t include much interaction), he was fairly certain about what he saw.
Uruha dropped his gaze, looking guilty and as if he might choke any moment.
Before either could utter a word, the door swung open and Kai burst in.
“Guys, sorry I was stuck in traffic. Ruki and Reita should be here any minute. Let’s head into the studio now.”
Uruha quickly stood up and grabbed his things, following Kai out of the door, leaving Aoi only a moment to collect himself before extinguishing the cigarette.
“So I think we should change the guitar parts here a little,” Ruki said, marking a portion of the score sheet with a pencil. “Uruha, what do you think? Uruha?”
“Huh?” Uruha looked up from his score blankly.
“Were you even listening?” Kai asked, looking surprised. It was uncharacteristic of Uruha to lose concentration while at a meeting, especially since he was the main composer of the particular song.
“He’s got a lot on his mind,” Aoi piped up with a sniff.
“Like what?” Reita asked.
“Oh shut up,” Uruha muttered. The others shrugged; they were used to talking to one another like this. But Aoi’s gaze never left Uruha, and it made him uncomfortable. He quickly stole a glance to confirm it, before averting his eyes again.
“Well, Aoi, what about you?” Kai was saying.
“Eh? Ah, well…” Aoi stared down at the chords and let his voice trail off. He was silent for a minute.
Kai sighed, the frustration apparent in his voice.
“Come on, you guys, we need to figure this out. Uruha, Aoi, is there something bothering you two?”
“No,” Uruha answered quickly, straightening himself up.
But Kai wasn’t one to take no for an answer, especially when it came to the GazettE.
“You two, go shopping,” he commanded.
“What?” Aoi stared at Kai as though he had lost his mind.
“Kai, what’s this about?” Reita added, looking bemused.
“These two have obviously got problems,” Kai stated flatly, crossing his arms across his chest. Oh yeah, it was the infamous Mother Hen pose. Kai could read his kids like a book.
“Go figure out your problems, talk it out, walk it out, whatever. Then bring some good ideas back here tomorrow. Got it?”
Uruha mumbled something of an apology in slight embarrassment, rubbing his neck. Aoi didn’t look as amused, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as the meeting adjourned as quickly as it had started.
Which led them to this.
“This is unbelievable,” Aoi was muttering under his breath.
For some unknown reason, the two of them had actually decided to listen to Kai’s advice and were currently walking along a quiet street in Daikanyama littered with stylish boutiques, bookstores and cafés.
Uruha was walking a little ahead of Aoi. The two of them had been silent throughout the “shopping trip”, which was merely aimlessly walking past rows of shops, several feet apart from one another.
Aoi sighed.
“Wait.”
Uruha stopped in his tracks.
Aoi slowly came up next to him, trying to meet his eyes, but it was impossible with those large shades perched on Uruha’s nose.
“Uruha. Do you like me?”
Uruha’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he looked directly into Aoi’s face for a moment.
“I was drunk.”
“You’re not answering me.”
“You’re not acting the right way!” Uruha blurted, his voice a little louder than he had expected.
Aoi blinked at the outburst.
“Fine,” Aoi said. “Tell me how I should be acting.”
“I don’t know. Freak out or something. Or hate me.”
“Why?”
“Who wouldn’t if they found out their own bandmate liked them in that way? Not to mention we’re both guys. Do I need to make this more obvious?” Uruha practically shrieked.
It was rare of him to sound like this, so confused and out of control. His emotions were pouring out of nowhere. Was it a hangover? Uruha shut his eyes, half-wishing he hadn’t blurted out all that. He rubbed his temples briefly, his eyes flinching at the throbbing pain.
Aoi remained expressionless.
“Well, you said you were drunk,” he stated slowly.
Uruha threw his hands up in frustration. “Oh god, Aoi, you’re not helping! Let’s just forget this.”
If this were a fanfiction, Aoi would have gasped in shock right after realizing Uruha did love him, and Uruha would probably cry and say something like please don’t hate me Aoi-kun, and then Aoi would pull him into an embrace and stroke his back comfortingly while whispering I have loved you all along too. Then there’d be more crying, followed by those long dramatic kisses, perhaps involving tongues, and finally a warm and fuzzy ending of them holding hands walking into the sunset…
But no, this was real life, and in reality Aoi was both a bit of a cynic and a retard. And the real Uruha was easily frustrated at the reactions of the stupid (albeit tall, slender and good-looking) man next him.
Not knowing what else to do, Uruha stomped into the nearest store. It turned out to be some fashion boutique, a dark and musty-smelling box dimly lit by antique chandeliers. There were only one or two customers lingering around. Jazz music was playing from hidden speakers, and racks of men’s shirts were pressed against the wooden walls. A glass display by the register had an assortment of silver pendants and leather bracelets.
Aoi followed him into the shop silently. Uruha pretentiously ignored him, turning his interest to the clothes.
It infuriated him that Aoi could act so cool, so indifferent, giving those nonchalant responses when he so obviously knew what Uruha had drunk-blogged wasn’t just, well, drunk-blogging.
It was almost as if Aoi were laughing at him from inside, laughing at Uruha for being childish, for falling in love with him, for having his feelings exposed. And there was nothing Uruha could do about it. Aoi had all the power over him now.
“Uruha,” Aoi began, walking closer to him. “We should probably talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Uruha muttered. “Nothing you say is going to be what I want to hear, so what’s the point? Leave it. It was just some crap I wrote while drunk.”
He was being difficult. He hated himself like that, and he hated doing that to Aoi, but it wasn’t as if he could expect anything good to come out of this right? He just had to focus on getting back to being his usual cool, collected self, and then the two of them could get on with their strained, cold relationship, which certainly worked in terms of producing sold-out records.
Aoi sighed. He knew Uruha was uncomfortable and upset at this moment, but he didn’t want to leave this alone. Uruha should hear him out too. He at least should give Aoi the right to respond to his (indirect) confession.
Before he could say another word, a sales girl materialized out of nowhere next to Uruha.
“Can I help you, Sir?”
Uruha looked relieved for the distraction.
“Oh, yes,” he mumbled, quickly pulling out three shirts. “I’d like to try these.”
“Sure, please come this way,” the sales girl said, leading him to the fitting room.
Aoi rolled his eyes and followed him.
“Thanks,” Uruha said as he took off his shoes, took the clothes from the sales girl’s arms, and stepped into the fitting room.
“You can’t avoid this forever,” Aoi hissed, before Uruha promptly pulled the curtains close.
Another customer called out for the sales girl, who quickly bowed to Aoi before turning her attention away.
It was then Aoi had a brilliant idea.
Uruha didn’t want to hear him out, did he? Well, Aoi was going to make certain he got himself understood.
Checking to make sure nobody was looking, Aoi quickly lifted the curtains and slipped into the fitting room.
“What the hell?!” Uruha gasped, his shirt unbuttoned. He pulled off his shades and stared, as if to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.
Aoi placed a finger on his lips and motioned for him to be quiet.
“You don’t want anybody to hear now, do you?” he whispered, his tone coy.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Uruha whispered back harshly, but looking flustered and unable to help a blush spreading up from his neck to his cheeks. After all, he was practically half-naked and currently in a very close proximity to the man he had always wanted.
“I’m here to react in the right way,” Aoi mimicked.
Uruha’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, if you’re going to keep making fun of me-”
His sentence was cut off as Aoi pressed his lips against his own, locking him in a deep kiss. Uruha didn’t have the time to react and Aoi’s tongue was already finding entry into his mouth. His head spun, and he moaned softly when his brain finally registered the sensation of Aoi’s lips.
He was already kissing him back; there was no amount of force or logic in the world that could make him stop at that moment. Everything he had dreamed about was actually happening. Well, almost everything. Uruha sighed as he sucked on Aoi’s lower lip. Soft, plump and almost sweet. Aoi tasted like hot vanilla.
Wait.
Uruha’s eyes fluttered open and he pulled back, breaking the kiss and feeling slightly breathless.
“Aoi,” he whispered, eyes wide. “Why are you doing this?”
“You wanted me to react in the right way,” Aoi repeated slyly.
“You don’t have to,” Uruha said, flustered. He stared at his feet. “I mean, what’s the point of forcing yourself to react in the way I want you to react...”
“Oh, but it is the right way for me, Uru-chan,” Aoi said, his voice teasing.
Uru-chan?
Uruha looked up and blinked rapidly, studying Aoi’s face.
A gentle smile formed on Aoi’s lips, his expression softening.
“I’m sorry about the teasing, Uru. But, well, I was never very good with words,” he said, sounding almost sheepish. “I guess, um, this is how I feel about you?”
Uruha blinked again. Then something in his mind clicked, and his heart was flooded with thrill and happiness.
Just then, a voice called from outside the curtains.
“Sir, how are the shirts?”
Uruha looked momentarily surprised, almost forgetting they were still in the fitting room.
“Uh, they’re fine, I’ll be out in a minute,” he called.
“Liar,” Aoi whispered, to which Uruha gave him a jab in the ribs.
“Shut up. We’ve to get out of here,” he mumbled, still flustered over the kiss, over this unexpected development of things. He sincerely hoped Aoi wasn’t just playing him for the thrill of doing something naughty in a fitting room.
“Not yet,” Aoi grabbed his wrist. Before Uruha could protest Aoi shoved him against the wall and kissed him again, this time letting one hand push the shirt off Uruha’s shoulders.
“Aoi…” Uruha whimpered, his breathing quickening. He couldn’t believe this; Aoi, as in his bandmate, the guy he’s secretly loved for years, was actually touching him like that, loving him back.
Oh god, oh god. Uruha’s thoughts were scattered, unable to control himself from kissing back once again. It was too much. He had wanted him for too long the ache in his heart had almost turned numb. And now Aoi was kissing him back so softly, one hand stroking his hair softly while the other caressed the skin on his bare back. It was amazing, and it was what he had been wanting for so long.
Dropping moist kisses along Uruha’s jawline while one hand carelessly brushed over the crotch of Uruha’s tight jeans, Aoi could hear Uruha pant as he trailed his lips to his ear.
“I’ve always loved you, Uruha,” his whispered before kissing his earlobe. What sounded like a strangled sob escaped Uruha’s lips.
The voice from outside the door came again, interrupting the moment.
“Sir, are you okay?” the sales girl’s voice sounded concerned.
“I-I-I’m fine,” Uruha choked out, gasping again as Aoi touched him there ever so lightly.
“Sir?” the sales girl repeated. “Do you need any help?”
Aoi stopped the kissing and rolled his eyes.
“She’s not buying this,” he whispered.
Without waiting for Uruha to speak, his parted the curtains slightly and stuck his head out. The sales girl jumped, looking visibly shocked.
“We’re busy,” Aoi stated a matter-of-factly.
The sales girl’s eyes widened. “Uh, i-is the other person okay?”
“Yes,” Aoi snapped. “And no, I’m not robbing or raping him whatsoever.”
He was about to pull the curtains close again when the sales girl spoke up hastily.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but only one person can enter the fitting room at a time.”
Aoi raised a (non-existent) eyebrow.
“Five minutes,” he said. He leaned forward conspirationally.
“You see, my friend’s gay, and it takes him about half an hour to decide on whether to buy one shirt or not. Trust me, you’d want me to help him if you don’t want him hogging the fitting room all day.”
The sales girl looked taken aback.
“Uh, um, okay then,” she said nervously.
Aoi smiled and closed the curtains again.
“I can’t believe you just said that to her,” Uruha said, his mouth open in disbelief.
“Relax, it’s not like she knows who we are,” Aoi whispered. “Now, where were we…”
Exactly five minutes later, a smug-looking Aoi stepped out along with a red-faced Uruha.
“So… how do you like the shirts?” the sales girl asked, still staring at them both suspiciously.
“Oh, they were great. We’ll take them all,” Aoi said, pulling out his wallet. The sales girl look appeased and brought the clothing to the cashier, with Aoi following behind.
Uruha, still feeling dazed, watched Aoi’s retreating back and swaying hips.
Then his lips curved into a smile.
Cocky, annoying, laidback, nonchalant, beautiful, sexy, talented (in more ways than one)…
He grinned to himself, heading towards Aoi.
Oh yeah, that was the definitely the man he was in love with.
Author's notes:
- Just in case anyone got confused, Japanese mobile phones come with internet, and many people blog from their phone, as well as read blogs directly from the phone :3
- This idea came into my head last night and begged itself to be written. Forgive me for the lame title XD I hope you all had a good read anyway. See my other fanfiction here.
Chapter: oneshot
Author: tokyorockstar
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha
Genre: Romance, Fluff, Humour
Rating: PG-13
Synopsis: "I'm sorry Sir, but only one person can enter the fitting room at a time."
Warnings: Very mild implied smut
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, etc.
Shopping for Love
Uruha didn’t know how things had turned out to be like this.
Well, he did, sort of, but he sure didn’t want to admit it.
It all started with a typical Friday night after work. Like an idiot, he had gone home and gotten drunk in his own living room, as usual. Fans these days seemed to be getting richer, so Uruha’s apartment had a never-ending supply of champagnes and wines.
But like an even bigger idiot, he had managed to write on his blog while he was drunk. While there were certainly many typos and indecipherable words, somehow amidst all the grammatically incorrect junk, he had managed to type
I love you Aoi love solog a for so longit hurts I realaly do loveyo u
And it had to be that line, of the entire entry of seemingly mindless gobbledygook, that required the least deciphering.
Of course, being drunk, he didn’t privatize the entry.
Which, in turn, led to the incident the following morning at the recording studio.
“Uruha, were you fucking drunk last night?” Aoi was chuckling while staring at his phone.
“What are you talking about?” Uruha asked.
The two of them were smoking in one of the small waiting rooms. It was unusual that they were the first to arrive since Kai was anal about starting everything on time and would usually arrive earlier to check on things.
“Your blog,” Aoi replied, still grinning.
Uruha hadn’t seen him grin like that in a long time. Actually, they hadn’t talked a lot, over the past year, or was it two, he couldn’t remember. Conversations that were not about work hardly surfaced between them anymore, and they were both aware of it.
So the fact that Aoi was chuckling and reading Uruha’s blog made it doubly intriguing.
“You read my blog?”
Aoi shrugged, extracting the cigarette from his lips and exhaling slowly.
“Occassionally.”
Uruha walked over and grabbed the phone, reading the tiny text with furrowed eyebrows.
“Man, I can’t believe I wrote all this crap last night, I don’t even know what I’m talking about…”
“No, wait, see here?” Aoi grabbed the phone back and scrolled down. He pointed to the bottom line. That line.
The words were screaming at Uruha.
“Oh. Fuck.”
Aoi laughed again.
“Dude, did you just confess your love for me? In public?” Aoi shook his head. “Better go edit that entry now, you don’t want to mislead fans and risk suicide.”
Uruha didn’t answer. He slowly sunk back down onto the couch, not even noticing the cigarette ash falling on top of his shoes.
“What’s the matter?”
No answer.
Uruha simply stared blankly ahead.
How on earth did I manage to write that out and let Aoi see it…
“Come on,” Aoi tried again, giving Uruha a gentle shove and a cat-like grin.
“What? You’re all embarrassed? Cuz you’e in love with me?”
At that, Uruha finally turned his gaze to meet Aoi’s eyes.
Their eyes bore into one another’s for a moment - Uruha’s slightly faltering and panicked; Aoi’s steely and confused.
And then there was understanding.
Aoi’s lips parted slightly at what he saw in those eyes. Seven years together (even though the past two didn’t include much interaction), he was fairly certain about what he saw.
Uruha dropped his gaze, looking guilty and as if he might choke any moment.
Before either could utter a word, the door swung open and Kai burst in.
“Guys, sorry I was stuck in traffic. Ruki and Reita should be here any minute. Let’s head into the studio now.”
Uruha quickly stood up and grabbed his things, following Kai out of the door, leaving Aoi only a moment to collect himself before extinguishing the cigarette.
“So I think we should change the guitar parts here a little,” Ruki said, marking a portion of the score sheet with a pencil. “Uruha, what do you think? Uruha?”
“Huh?” Uruha looked up from his score blankly.
“Were you even listening?” Kai asked, looking surprised. It was uncharacteristic of Uruha to lose concentration while at a meeting, especially since he was the main composer of the particular song.
“He’s got a lot on his mind,” Aoi piped up with a sniff.
“Like what?” Reita asked.
“Oh shut up,” Uruha muttered. The others shrugged; they were used to talking to one another like this. But Aoi’s gaze never left Uruha, and it made him uncomfortable. He quickly stole a glance to confirm it, before averting his eyes again.
“Well, Aoi, what about you?” Kai was saying.
“Eh? Ah, well…” Aoi stared down at the chords and let his voice trail off. He was silent for a minute.
Kai sighed, the frustration apparent in his voice.
“Come on, you guys, we need to figure this out. Uruha, Aoi, is there something bothering you two?”
“No,” Uruha answered quickly, straightening himself up.
But Kai wasn’t one to take no for an answer, especially when it came to the GazettE.
“You two, go shopping,” he commanded.
“What?” Aoi stared at Kai as though he had lost his mind.
“Kai, what’s this about?” Reita added, looking bemused.
“These two have obviously got problems,” Kai stated flatly, crossing his arms across his chest. Oh yeah, it was the infamous Mother Hen pose. Kai could read his kids like a book.
“Go figure out your problems, talk it out, walk it out, whatever. Then bring some good ideas back here tomorrow. Got it?”
Uruha mumbled something of an apology in slight embarrassment, rubbing his neck. Aoi didn’t look as amused, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as the meeting adjourned as quickly as it had started.
Which led them to this.
“This is unbelievable,” Aoi was muttering under his breath.
For some unknown reason, the two of them had actually decided to listen to Kai’s advice and were currently walking along a quiet street in Daikanyama littered with stylish boutiques, bookstores and cafés.
Uruha was walking a little ahead of Aoi. The two of them had been silent throughout the “shopping trip”, which was merely aimlessly walking past rows of shops, several feet apart from one another.
Aoi sighed.
“Wait.”
Uruha stopped in his tracks.
Aoi slowly came up next to him, trying to meet his eyes, but it was impossible with those large shades perched on Uruha’s nose.
“Uruha. Do you like me?”
Uruha’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he looked directly into Aoi’s face for a moment.
“I was drunk.”
“You’re not answering me.”
“You’re not acting the right way!” Uruha blurted, his voice a little louder than he had expected.
Aoi blinked at the outburst.
“Fine,” Aoi said. “Tell me how I should be acting.”
“I don’t know. Freak out or something. Or hate me.”
“Why?”
“Who wouldn’t if they found out their own bandmate liked them in that way? Not to mention we’re both guys. Do I need to make this more obvious?” Uruha practically shrieked.
It was rare of him to sound like this, so confused and out of control. His emotions were pouring out of nowhere. Was it a hangover? Uruha shut his eyes, half-wishing he hadn’t blurted out all that. He rubbed his temples briefly, his eyes flinching at the throbbing pain.
Aoi remained expressionless.
“Well, you said you were drunk,” he stated slowly.
Uruha threw his hands up in frustration. “Oh god, Aoi, you’re not helping! Let’s just forget this.”
If this were a fanfiction, Aoi would have gasped in shock right after realizing Uruha did love him, and Uruha would probably cry and say something like please don’t hate me Aoi-kun, and then Aoi would pull him into an embrace and stroke his back comfortingly while whispering I have loved you all along too. Then there’d be more crying, followed by those long dramatic kisses, perhaps involving tongues, and finally a warm and fuzzy ending of them holding hands walking into the sunset…
But no, this was real life, and in reality Aoi was both a bit of a cynic and a retard. And the real Uruha was easily frustrated at the reactions of the stupid (albeit tall, slender and good-looking) man next him.
Not knowing what else to do, Uruha stomped into the nearest store. It turned out to be some fashion boutique, a dark and musty-smelling box dimly lit by antique chandeliers. There were only one or two customers lingering around. Jazz music was playing from hidden speakers, and racks of men’s shirts were pressed against the wooden walls. A glass display by the register had an assortment of silver pendants and leather bracelets.
Aoi followed him into the shop silently. Uruha pretentiously ignored him, turning his interest to the clothes.
It infuriated him that Aoi could act so cool, so indifferent, giving those nonchalant responses when he so obviously knew what Uruha had drunk-blogged wasn’t just, well, drunk-blogging.
It was almost as if Aoi were laughing at him from inside, laughing at Uruha for being childish, for falling in love with him, for having his feelings exposed. And there was nothing Uruha could do about it. Aoi had all the power over him now.
“Uruha,” Aoi began, walking closer to him. “We should probably talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Uruha muttered. “Nothing you say is going to be what I want to hear, so what’s the point? Leave it. It was just some crap I wrote while drunk.”
He was being difficult. He hated himself like that, and he hated doing that to Aoi, but it wasn’t as if he could expect anything good to come out of this right? He just had to focus on getting back to being his usual cool, collected self, and then the two of them could get on with their strained, cold relationship, which certainly worked in terms of producing sold-out records.
Aoi sighed. He knew Uruha was uncomfortable and upset at this moment, but he didn’t want to leave this alone. Uruha should hear him out too. He at least should give Aoi the right to respond to his (indirect) confession.
Before he could say another word, a sales girl materialized out of nowhere next to Uruha.
“Can I help you, Sir?”
Uruha looked relieved for the distraction.
“Oh, yes,” he mumbled, quickly pulling out three shirts. “I’d like to try these.”
“Sure, please come this way,” the sales girl said, leading him to the fitting room.
Aoi rolled his eyes and followed him.
“Thanks,” Uruha said as he took off his shoes, took the clothes from the sales girl’s arms, and stepped into the fitting room.
“You can’t avoid this forever,” Aoi hissed, before Uruha promptly pulled the curtains close.
Another customer called out for the sales girl, who quickly bowed to Aoi before turning her attention away.
It was then Aoi had a brilliant idea.
Uruha didn’t want to hear him out, did he? Well, Aoi was going to make certain he got himself understood.
Checking to make sure nobody was looking, Aoi quickly lifted the curtains and slipped into the fitting room.
“What the hell?!” Uruha gasped, his shirt unbuttoned. He pulled off his shades and stared, as if to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.
Aoi placed a finger on his lips and motioned for him to be quiet.
“You don’t want anybody to hear now, do you?” he whispered, his tone coy.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Uruha whispered back harshly, but looking flustered and unable to help a blush spreading up from his neck to his cheeks. After all, he was practically half-naked and currently in a very close proximity to the man he had always wanted.
“I’m here to react in the right way,” Aoi mimicked.
Uruha’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, if you’re going to keep making fun of me-”
His sentence was cut off as Aoi pressed his lips against his own, locking him in a deep kiss. Uruha didn’t have the time to react and Aoi’s tongue was already finding entry into his mouth. His head spun, and he moaned softly when his brain finally registered the sensation of Aoi’s lips.
He was already kissing him back; there was no amount of force or logic in the world that could make him stop at that moment. Everything he had dreamed about was actually happening. Well, almost everything. Uruha sighed as he sucked on Aoi’s lower lip. Soft, plump and almost sweet. Aoi tasted like hot vanilla.
Wait.
Uruha’s eyes fluttered open and he pulled back, breaking the kiss and feeling slightly breathless.
“Aoi,” he whispered, eyes wide. “Why are you doing this?”
“You wanted me to react in the right way,” Aoi repeated slyly.
“You don’t have to,” Uruha said, flustered. He stared at his feet. “I mean, what’s the point of forcing yourself to react in the way I want you to react...”
“Oh, but it is the right way for me, Uru-chan,” Aoi said, his voice teasing.
Uru-chan?
Uruha looked up and blinked rapidly, studying Aoi’s face.
A gentle smile formed on Aoi’s lips, his expression softening.
“I’m sorry about the teasing, Uru. But, well, I was never very good with words,” he said, sounding almost sheepish. “I guess, um, this is how I feel about you?”
Uruha blinked again. Then something in his mind clicked, and his heart was flooded with thrill and happiness.
Just then, a voice called from outside the curtains.
“Sir, how are the shirts?”
Uruha looked momentarily surprised, almost forgetting they were still in the fitting room.
“Uh, they’re fine, I’ll be out in a minute,” he called.
“Liar,” Aoi whispered, to which Uruha gave him a jab in the ribs.
“Shut up. We’ve to get out of here,” he mumbled, still flustered over the kiss, over this unexpected development of things. He sincerely hoped Aoi wasn’t just playing him for the thrill of doing something naughty in a fitting room.
“Not yet,” Aoi grabbed his wrist. Before Uruha could protest Aoi shoved him against the wall and kissed him again, this time letting one hand push the shirt off Uruha’s shoulders.
“Aoi…” Uruha whimpered, his breathing quickening. He couldn’t believe this; Aoi, as in his bandmate, the guy he’s secretly loved for years, was actually touching him like that, loving him back.
Oh god, oh god. Uruha’s thoughts were scattered, unable to control himself from kissing back once again. It was too much. He had wanted him for too long the ache in his heart had almost turned numb. And now Aoi was kissing him back so softly, one hand stroking his hair softly while the other caressed the skin on his bare back. It was amazing, and it was what he had been wanting for so long.
Dropping moist kisses along Uruha’s jawline while one hand carelessly brushed over the crotch of Uruha’s tight jeans, Aoi could hear Uruha pant as he trailed his lips to his ear.
“I’ve always loved you, Uruha,” his whispered before kissing his earlobe. What sounded like a strangled sob escaped Uruha’s lips.
The voice from outside the door came again, interrupting the moment.
“Sir, are you okay?” the sales girl’s voice sounded concerned.
“I-I-I’m fine,” Uruha choked out, gasping again as Aoi touched him there ever so lightly.
“Sir?” the sales girl repeated. “Do you need any help?”
Aoi stopped the kissing and rolled his eyes.
“She’s not buying this,” he whispered.
Without waiting for Uruha to speak, his parted the curtains slightly and stuck his head out. The sales girl jumped, looking visibly shocked.
“We’re busy,” Aoi stated a matter-of-factly.
The sales girl’s eyes widened. “Uh, i-is the other person okay?”
“Yes,” Aoi snapped. “And no, I’m not robbing or raping him whatsoever.”
He was about to pull the curtains close again when the sales girl spoke up hastily.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but only one person can enter the fitting room at a time.”
Aoi raised a (non-existent) eyebrow.
“Five minutes,” he said. He leaned forward conspirationally.
“You see, my friend’s gay, and it takes him about half an hour to decide on whether to buy one shirt or not. Trust me, you’d want me to help him if you don’t want him hogging the fitting room all day.”
The sales girl looked taken aback.
“Uh, um, okay then,” she said nervously.
Aoi smiled and closed the curtains again.
“I can’t believe you just said that to her,” Uruha said, his mouth open in disbelief.
“Relax, it’s not like she knows who we are,” Aoi whispered. “Now, where were we…”
Exactly five minutes later, a smug-looking Aoi stepped out along with a red-faced Uruha.
“So… how do you like the shirts?” the sales girl asked, still staring at them both suspiciously.
“Oh, they were great. We’ll take them all,” Aoi said, pulling out his wallet. The sales girl look appeased and brought the clothing to the cashier, with Aoi following behind.
Uruha, still feeling dazed, watched Aoi’s retreating back and swaying hips.
Then his lips curved into a smile.
Cocky, annoying, laidback, nonchalant, beautiful, sexy, talented (in more ways than one)…
He grinned to himself, heading towards Aoi.
Oh yeah, that was the definitely the man he was in love with.
Author's notes:
- Just in case anyone got confused, Japanese mobile phones come with internet, and many people blog from their phone, as well as read blogs directly from the phone :3
- This idea came into my head last night and begged itself to be written. Forgive me for the lame title XD I hope you all had a good read anyway. See my other fanfiction here.