Photographs
Title: Photographs
Pairing: Kitayama/Fujigaya
Rating: PG
Word count: 1867
Summary: Kitayama didn’t know where Fujigaya was now. He hadn’t been thinking about Fujigaya in a long time.
A/N: This fic was my Christmas present to Jenni. It's actually a songfic for this song. The lyrics are in Finnish though. :'3 The fic is AU, btw.
- - -
The glow-in-the-dark hands of the old alarm clock pointed at fifteen to three. The light of street lamps formed a narrow yellow line on the ceiling of the dark room, and Kitayama turned over in his bed for about the seventy-sixth time that night, fully awake despite the small hour.
It wasn’t like him to be unable to fall asleep. In fact, Kitayama Hiromitsu suffering of insomnia could have been named an eleventh wonder of the world, or however many wonders there already were. He didn’t really care about that anyway. The only thing he wanted was just to sleep.
“Man, what’s wrong with you?” he asked aloud from his reflection that he saw on the smooth surface of the black plastic clock.
After five more minutes Kitayama sighed deeply and got up from his bed. It was stupid to just roll around in his bed without getting any sleep when he could actually do something useful. Maybe he would start feeling more tired if he stopped trying to force himself to sleep. Instead, he decided to do something to the mess of his wardrobe.
He had been busy with work lately, hardly visiting his home for a few hours of sleep every day before rushing to work again and his clothes reflected such a way of living pretty well. There were clothes in different stages of cleanness everywhere around Kitayama’s bedroom; in the wardrobe (mostly clean clothes), on the back rest of a chair and the foot of his bed (worn only two or three times), on the floor (dirty, waiting for a laundry day), and in several bags around the room (both clean and worn clothes in them, worn in his work trips).
Kitayama swiftly sorted out the clothes, carried the dirty ones to the bathroom and then concentrated on the clean ones, folding them tidily into his wardrobe.
There were still some summer clothes around, Kitayama found out, and was relieved his mother couldn’t see them. It was December.
He folded all the clean summer clothes into one neat pile and climbed on a chair to reach the highest shelf of the wardrobe. He was pushing the other piles of clothes to the side to make the new pile fit in with them when he saw the brown back of a thick book on the shelf. He immediately knew the book even though he hadn’t seen it in a long time - for years, even. He had to stand up on the tips of his toes to reach the book, and when he got it, he climbed down and sat on the edge of his bed.
It was an old photo album, full of pictures from his high school and university years, and Kitayama felt a bit baffled when leafing through the pages. There were dozens and dozens of pictures of him and his friends around that time; all the faces were familiar but many of the names were lost from his memory already. There he was posing for the camera on the first day of his second year in high school, and there was his soccer team after having won the Kanto Region Junior Cup.
Then he saw him.
Fujigaya was laughing at the camera, eyes shining and his stupid overgrown front hair almost falling on his face. Behind him Kitayama recognized other familiar faces; Yokoo was there, and Kawai and Totsuka. Kitayama remembered the Christmas Eve he had taken the picture. They had been at some night club they had randomly chosen just to celebrate of the first Christmas they all were of age and could finally drink whatever they wanted.
There were a few more pictures of the same night, and the memory of that Christmas made Kitayama feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He kept looking at the pictures of their small group of friends until the warm tickling feeling slowly moved from his stomach up on his chest.
The last picture of that day was taken by Kawai; Kitayama remembered it as if had just happened a while ago. In the picture Fujigaya was sitting next to Kitayama, while Kitayama was looking away and rolling his eyes at Fujigaya’s pathetic drunken attempts to woo him.
The picture didn’t reveal anything more but Kitayama still remembered very well how he had really felt when Fujigaya had leaned closer to him and whispered some sweet words that had made Kitayama’s breath hitch.
Kitayama didn’t know where Fujigaya was now. He hadn’t been thinking about Fujigaya in a long time.
Did Fujigaya ever think of him?
New pictures on new pages brought more and more old memories back to Kitayama’s mind. After the Christmas party Fujigaya appeared in the pictures more often. Sometimes they were together and sometimes it was just Fujigaya alone. Next to one of those there was another picture where Kitayama was alone, not quite looking at the camera but the person behind it.
One picture drew Kitayama’s attention for a much longer time than any of the former pictures.
It was of the two of them, sitting in a place that looked like a small karaoke room. Fujigaya was holding a glass of orange juice in his other hand and a microphone in the other while Kitayama was leaning closer to him and kissing him, one hand lifted to cup his cheek. Their eyes were closed and it looked like they had forgotten everything else in the world.
Kitayama let himself fall to his back on the bed, staring at the white ceiling deep in his thoughts. He could still feel it; the soft pressure of Fujigaya’s lips on his own ones, the overwhelming warmth and a rush of excitement it had made him feel when Fujigaya had kissed him deeper until the both of them had been breathless and shivering.
He didn’t know the karaoke room behind him and Fujigaya, and he had no idea who had taken the picture but he knew he had fallen in love with Fujigaya on that weekend.
For a long time they had been happy together. With all of their imperfection they had been perfect for each other. They had fought a lot and apologized soon after. They had spent more nights together than separated. They had gone on dates and introduced each other to their parents and closest friends. Kitayama had loved Fujigaya with his whole heart and he supposed Fujigaya had felt the same.
He wondered what had gone wrong.
Fujigaya’s studies had required moving out of Tokyo when the University he had attended to had renovated its curriculum and the main campus of Fujigaya’s major subject had moved to Kyoto. They had talked about it a lot, fought and cried as well but there hadn’t been much to do. Fujigaya had wanted to finish his studies properly and so had Kitayama, not to mention all the soccer activities that had kept him in Tokyo.
The long-distance relationship between them had worked for a while until they had mailed each other less and less often, and one day Kitayama had realized he hadn’t heard of Fujigaya in two whole weeks.
They had been busy with school, and Kitayama had dedicated all his spare time to soccer for the next two years, until once he had sprained his ankle badly enough that the doctor had forbid him from professional playing. Kitayama still remembered the shock caused by the bad news. He had cried and shouted, fought back against the doctors’ orders and hurt the same ankle twice again until Totsuka had forced him to come into his senses. (“You’ll make yourself unable to even walk if you don’t stop now!”)
Kitayama still played sometimes, together with friends just for fun, and he was allowed to train a small kids’ team, but he could never anymore train with his own team like he had used to.
Fujigaya had always acted like he wasn’t interested in soccer at all but Kitayama knew he had often come to watch the games when Kitayama had played, thinking he was being secretive. He had never told Fujigaya he had known about it. He wondered if Fujigaya knew he didn’t play anymore. Maybe, if Kawai still kept in touch with Fujigaya. If Fujigaya was interested to even know anything about Kitayama anymore.
Picture by picture, Kitayama leafed through the photo album, pieces of old memories flashing in his mind when he relived those moments again. In the last picture Fujigaya was sitting in his father’s car. Kitayama remembered the place; it was close to the seashore where Kitayama had tried to teach Fujigaya how to surf. Fujigaya had been childishly happy when he had finally learned some of the basics, and the smile on his face reflected the joy of the new accomplishment. The smile was warm and shining, and it made Kitayama shiver of longing when he touched Fujigaya’s face in the picture with his fingertips.
The next page was empty. The last picture had been taken right before Kitayama had heard Fujigaya would move to Kyoto. Kitayama closed the album and quietly sat on his bed looking ahead and seeing nothing, thinking about the pictures and the people in them, his own life, and Fujigaya.
Could there still be a way to fix old mistakes? Would Fujigaya listen to him? Did Fujigaya even need him in his life anymore? He was probably living happily in Kyoto with his new friends. Who knew if he was dating someone? It had been a long time enough that he could even be married already.
Kitayama thought about it for a long time. He thought about many things but he always ended up back to Fujigaya, and by the time the night sky was already getting lighter, he had made his decision.
He knew he might not reach Fujigaya anymore. The man could have changed his phone number many times since the last time. Kitayama knew it, but he still browsed the list of names in his mobile phone until he found Fujigaya’s name. His hands felt sticky of cold sweat when he pressed the green button and put the phone on his ear.
The dialing tone rang for a long time, long enough that Kitayama decided to only wait for a few times more before he would close the phone.
“Who’s there?”
Kitayama’s breath caught at the familiarity of the voice. It was sleepy and slightly annoyed - it was five o’clock in the morning after all - but also confused and curious. That was exactly like Fujigaya, Kitayama thought, even when waken up in the middle of the night Fujigaya would be curious about the matter more than angry of his lost sleep.
“Hi, Taisuke. It’s me.”
It was quiet in the other end of the line for a long time but Kitayama heard the other man’s breath through the line and waited.
“Hiromitsu?”
Something told Kitayama it was okay to continue. He didn’t know what it was but something in in the tone of Fujigaya’s voice made the hope awake in him again.
Maybe, just maybe they could still have back what they had once lost.
Pairing: Kitayama/Fujigaya
Rating: PG
Word count: 1867
Summary: Kitayama didn’t know where Fujigaya was now. He hadn’t been thinking about Fujigaya in a long time.
A/N: This fic was my Christmas present to Jenni. It's actually a songfic for this song. The lyrics are in Finnish though. :'3 The fic is AU, btw.
- - -
The glow-in-the-dark hands of the old alarm clock pointed at fifteen to three. The light of street lamps formed a narrow yellow line on the ceiling of the dark room, and Kitayama turned over in his bed for about the seventy-sixth time that night, fully awake despite the small hour.
It wasn’t like him to be unable to fall asleep. In fact, Kitayama Hiromitsu suffering of insomnia could have been named an eleventh wonder of the world, or however many wonders there already were. He didn’t really care about that anyway. The only thing he wanted was just to sleep.
“Man, what’s wrong with you?” he asked aloud from his reflection that he saw on the smooth surface of the black plastic clock.
After five more minutes Kitayama sighed deeply and got up from his bed. It was stupid to just roll around in his bed without getting any sleep when he could actually do something useful. Maybe he would start feeling more tired if he stopped trying to force himself to sleep. Instead, he decided to do something to the mess of his wardrobe.
He had been busy with work lately, hardly visiting his home for a few hours of sleep every day before rushing to work again and his clothes reflected such a way of living pretty well. There were clothes in different stages of cleanness everywhere around Kitayama’s bedroom; in the wardrobe (mostly clean clothes), on the back rest of a chair and the foot of his bed (worn only two or three times), on the floor (dirty, waiting for a laundry day), and in several bags around the room (both clean and worn clothes in them, worn in his work trips).
Kitayama swiftly sorted out the clothes, carried the dirty ones to the bathroom and then concentrated on the clean ones, folding them tidily into his wardrobe.
There were still some summer clothes around, Kitayama found out, and was relieved his mother couldn’t see them. It was December.
He folded all the clean summer clothes into one neat pile and climbed on a chair to reach the highest shelf of the wardrobe. He was pushing the other piles of clothes to the side to make the new pile fit in with them when he saw the brown back of a thick book on the shelf. He immediately knew the book even though he hadn’t seen it in a long time - for years, even. He had to stand up on the tips of his toes to reach the book, and when he got it, he climbed down and sat on the edge of his bed.
It was an old photo album, full of pictures from his high school and university years, and Kitayama felt a bit baffled when leafing through the pages. There were dozens and dozens of pictures of him and his friends around that time; all the faces were familiar but many of the names were lost from his memory already. There he was posing for the camera on the first day of his second year in high school, and there was his soccer team after having won the Kanto Region Junior Cup.
Then he saw him.
Fujigaya was laughing at the camera, eyes shining and his stupid overgrown front hair almost falling on his face. Behind him Kitayama recognized other familiar faces; Yokoo was there, and Kawai and Totsuka. Kitayama remembered the Christmas Eve he had taken the picture. They had been at some night club they had randomly chosen just to celebrate of the first Christmas they all were of age and could finally drink whatever they wanted.
There were a few more pictures of the same night, and the memory of that Christmas made Kitayama feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He kept looking at the pictures of their small group of friends until the warm tickling feeling slowly moved from his stomach up on his chest.
The last picture of that day was taken by Kawai; Kitayama remembered it as if had just happened a while ago. In the picture Fujigaya was sitting next to Kitayama, while Kitayama was looking away and rolling his eyes at Fujigaya’s pathetic drunken attempts to woo him.
The picture didn’t reveal anything more but Kitayama still remembered very well how he had really felt when Fujigaya had leaned closer to him and whispered some sweet words that had made Kitayama’s breath hitch.
Kitayama didn’t know where Fujigaya was now. He hadn’t been thinking about Fujigaya in a long time.
Did Fujigaya ever think of him?
New pictures on new pages brought more and more old memories back to Kitayama’s mind. After the Christmas party Fujigaya appeared in the pictures more often. Sometimes they were together and sometimes it was just Fujigaya alone. Next to one of those there was another picture where Kitayama was alone, not quite looking at the camera but the person behind it.
One picture drew Kitayama’s attention for a much longer time than any of the former pictures.
It was of the two of them, sitting in a place that looked like a small karaoke room. Fujigaya was holding a glass of orange juice in his other hand and a microphone in the other while Kitayama was leaning closer to him and kissing him, one hand lifted to cup his cheek. Their eyes were closed and it looked like they had forgotten everything else in the world.
Kitayama let himself fall to his back on the bed, staring at the white ceiling deep in his thoughts. He could still feel it; the soft pressure of Fujigaya’s lips on his own ones, the overwhelming warmth and a rush of excitement it had made him feel when Fujigaya had kissed him deeper until the both of them had been breathless and shivering.
He didn’t know the karaoke room behind him and Fujigaya, and he had no idea who had taken the picture but he knew he had fallen in love with Fujigaya on that weekend.
For a long time they had been happy together. With all of their imperfection they had been perfect for each other. They had fought a lot and apologized soon after. They had spent more nights together than separated. They had gone on dates and introduced each other to their parents and closest friends. Kitayama had loved Fujigaya with his whole heart and he supposed Fujigaya had felt the same.
He wondered what had gone wrong.
Fujigaya’s studies had required moving out of Tokyo when the University he had attended to had renovated its curriculum and the main campus of Fujigaya’s major subject had moved to Kyoto. They had talked about it a lot, fought and cried as well but there hadn’t been much to do. Fujigaya had wanted to finish his studies properly and so had Kitayama, not to mention all the soccer activities that had kept him in Tokyo.
The long-distance relationship between them had worked for a while until they had mailed each other less and less often, and one day Kitayama had realized he hadn’t heard of Fujigaya in two whole weeks.
They had been busy with school, and Kitayama had dedicated all his spare time to soccer for the next two years, until once he had sprained his ankle badly enough that the doctor had forbid him from professional playing. Kitayama still remembered the shock caused by the bad news. He had cried and shouted, fought back against the doctors’ orders and hurt the same ankle twice again until Totsuka had forced him to come into his senses. (“You’ll make yourself unable to even walk if you don’t stop now!”)
Kitayama still played sometimes, together with friends just for fun, and he was allowed to train a small kids’ team, but he could never anymore train with his own team like he had used to.
Fujigaya had always acted like he wasn’t interested in soccer at all but Kitayama knew he had often come to watch the games when Kitayama had played, thinking he was being secretive. He had never told Fujigaya he had known about it. He wondered if Fujigaya knew he didn’t play anymore. Maybe, if Kawai still kept in touch with Fujigaya. If Fujigaya was interested to even know anything about Kitayama anymore.
Picture by picture, Kitayama leafed through the photo album, pieces of old memories flashing in his mind when he relived those moments again. In the last picture Fujigaya was sitting in his father’s car. Kitayama remembered the place; it was close to the seashore where Kitayama had tried to teach Fujigaya how to surf. Fujigaya had been childishly happy when he had finally learned some of the basics, and the smile on his face reflected the joy of the new accomplishment. The smile was warm and shining, and it made Kitayama shiver of longing when he touched Fujigaya’s face in the picture with his fingertips.
The next page was empty. The last picture had been taken right before Kitayama had heard Fujigaya would move to Kyoto. Kitayama closed the album and quietly sat on his bed looking ahead and seeing nothing, thinking about the pictures and the people in them, his own life, and Fujigaya.
Could there still be a way to fix old mistakes? Would Fujigaya listen to him? Did Fujigaya even need him in his life anymore? He was probably living happily in Kyoto with his new friends. Who knew if he was dating someone? It had been a long time enough that he could even be married already.
Kitayama thought about it for a long time. He thought about many things but he always ended up back to Fujigaya, and by the time the night sky was already getting lighter, he had made his decision.
He knew he might not reach Fujigaya anymore. The man could have changed his phone number many times since the last time. Kitayama knew it, but he still browsed the list of names in his mobile phone until he found Fujigaya’s name. His hands felt sticky of cold sweat when he pressed the green button and put the phone on his ear.
The dialing tone rang for a long time, long enough that Kitayama decided to only wait for a few times more before he would close the phone.
“Who’s there?”
Kitayama’s breath caught at the familiarity of the voice. It was sleepy and slightly annoyed - it was five o’clock in the morning after all - but also confused and curious. That was exactly like Fujigaya, Kitayama thought, even when waken up in the middle of the night Fujigaya would be curious about the matter more than angry of his lost sleep.
“Hi, Taisuke. It’s me.”
It was quiet in the other end of the line for a long time but Kitayama heard the other man’s breath through the line and waited.
“Hiromitsu?”
Something told Kitayama it was okay to continue. He didn’t know what it was but something in in the tone of Fujigaya’s voice made the hope awake in him again.
Maybe, just maybe they could still have back what they had once lost.