The Hollow: Chapter 3

Mar 20, 2008 14:46

Title: The Hollow
Author: Toryavi (one half of it)
Pairing: Tora/Miyavi (to be)
Rating: PG-13. (R in the future)
Warnings: Psychological disorders and institutions.
Disclaimer: The people belong to themselves, the story and plot belongs to me.
Summary: Sometimes, everyone needs a little crazy in their life.
Notes: it's a little shorter than the other chapters, but I've been very sick and for some reason, I had a hard time with this one, hopefully it's still decent!

[Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]


For two days, Tora hid away in his room and spent as much time avoiding people, Miyavi, as much as he could. He couldn’t help but think about that kiss over and over. Couldn’t forget the way Miyavi’s lips were chapped from the dry room or the way Tora loved the way Miyavi curled his tongue just so and almost made shivers run down his back just thinking back to that moment.

But he didn’t want to think of that kiss or Miyavi’s words. He didn’t want to think of all the potential emotions that Miyavi could bring up for him and because of that, Tora hid, just like he always did.

Hide away from the world, from people, from his problems, just everything in general. That’s what he liked to do. And so for two days, Tora stayed in his room and stared at his ceiling and counted tiles and cracks and even tried to pick up his guitar again. But the guitar just reminded him of his dream and of that night.

As much as Tora loved solitude and silence, spending all that time alone in his own room was beginning to bore him. So with great reluctance, Tora forced himself to roll out of bed, taking his time as he brushed his hair and picked out clothes to wear. Finally stepping out of the room, Tora all but dragged his feet out into the living room area.

And found it absent of Miyavi.

Slightly relieved and slightly confused, Tora hesitantly sat at the table across from Uruha. The blond was going through a box of matches, lighting one and dropping it into a glass of water at the last minute. Cat like eyes were fixed on the flame, entranced by the flicker. “Miyavi is…”

Dropping a matchstick into the water, Uruha stared at the small curl of smoke rising from the glass. Dragging the head of the matchstick against the side of the box, a smile curled against Uruha’s lips, a flash of teeth visible. “Not here.”

Rolling his eyes, Tora just leaned back in his seat, watching Uruha watch the flames. “Obviously.”

Raising his brow, Uruha glanced at Tora. “Well, aren’t you in a talkative mood today.”

Shrugging, Tora crossed his arms over his chest, almost regretting saying anything.

“Either way, Miyavi’s probably in his room, shutting out the world and will be for a good couple of weeks.” Dragging the match across the box, Uruha tilted his head slightly, bringing the matchstick to his eye level. “Last time he crashed he stayed in his room for a month straight and nearly nicked his vein when he punched through a window.”

Waiting until the flame was nearly eating away at his fingers, Uruha dropped the match into the glass again. “He’s going through his depression phase right now. I swear, dealing with a depressed Miyavi is ten times worse than dealing with a manic one.” Setting his match box down, a frown marred his face. “Refusing to get out of bed or to eat or to even moving and then of course, he goes off and nearly kills himself or hurts himself and ends up being a sobbing emotional mess and gets confined into the infirmary ward for suicide watch.”

Shaking his head, Uruha let’s loose a long sigh and chucks his empty matchbox into a trashcan. Tora could see the annoyance in his face, but can hear the concern and worry in the undertones of his voice. It almost made Tora want to ask if he could see Miyavi, but refused to let him even think that. “Don’t worry, I go see him every day to make sure he’s still breathing and alive, even if he just lies there the whole time and tells me to go away.”
Uruha gives Tora a smirk, one that was similar to the one Miyavi gave him. “You look worried, Mr. I-show-no-emotions.”

Tora shrugs, taking a moment to make sure he looks stoic as usual. But somehow, he feels like Uruha’s seeing beyond that and seeing more. Uruha just returns Tora’s gesture and shrugs as well, standing. “I’m going to go see him, you’re welcome to come along if you want. Who knows, maybe you’ll be his Prince Charming and pull him out of his funk.”

Tora just shakes his head and leans back in his seat some more.

He doesn’t care about Miyavi, doesn’t want to care. He just watches Uruha walk down the hallway and enter a door and for some reason, as much as Tora wants to deny it, he can’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy spark inside him. Jealous because it seems like Uruha knows Miyavi better than anyone else and knows just how to take care of the other.

Standing up, Tora decides that he needs to stop thinking about it and he needs to go outside for a cigarette or he’ll start punching holes into the walls again and the nurses don’t really like that at all.

Tora spends a week lounging out in the living room, staring out the window and occasionally indulging in Uruha’s company. But he finds that, Uruha’s company isn’t the same as Miyavi’s. Uruha’s more interested in playing with his lighters and matchsticks and tends to trail off when Tora begins to show signs of disinterest.

Miyavi wouldn’t care, he’d blabber on and on and wouldn’t let Tora be alone. He’d keep Tora’s interest, even if he didn’t want to be interested. Miyavi would insist on invading Tora’s personal bubble and drape himself all over Tora, hug him, prod him, keep in constant contact.

And as much as he hated to even internally admit it, he finally grudgingly, antagonizing days later, he came to the conclusion he actually, really did enjoy Miyavi’s company more than anyone else’s.

That next week, when Uruha asked again if Tora wanted to see Miyavi, Tora was almost surprised by the yes that fell out of his mouth.

The next afternoon, as they neared Miyavi’s door, Tora found his palms clammy, his mouth dry, and his heart beating in a slightly more rapid fashion and wondered why he was so nervous. Uruha just opens the door and walks inside, almost like Tora isn’t even there with him. Deciding not to care about that, Tora just walks in after Uruha and squints against the dimness of the room.

With only a few cracks from the curtains providing light, Miyavi’s room looks cluttered and small, almost claustrophobic. At first, Tora almost thinks Miyavi isn’t in the room until he sees Uruha climbing into the bed and wrapping his arms around the lump of blankets.

And that’s when he sees Miyavi’s hair peeking out from under the covers. The same multi-colored mess, but only this time, it’s even more matted and tangled and slightly greased, like Miyavi doesn’t even care.

Uruha’s mumbling some soft words, voice soft and coaxing like he’s trying to will out a scared animal or tame a wild one. Miyavi doesn’t even stir, just lies under his blankets and covers and seems like he’s just sleeping or doing a very good job at ignoring Uruha.

“Tora’s here.”

Guessing that it’s his cue, Tora moves closer to the bed, standing by the edge awkwardly, waiting to see if there’s any response at all.

And nothing.

With a sigh, Uruha peels away the covers from Miyavi’s face, tucking his chin over one lanky shoulder. “I know you’re not sleeping.”

“Go away.”

“No. C’mon, get up, you need to eat something, I know you haven’t eaten. Maybe you can get a bath today, I can talk to the nurses and you can just lie there and soak if you want.”

Uruha’s words are soft and gentle, almost loving and it makes Tora wonder. Wonder about the casual way Uruha’s holding Miyavi close to him, arms wrapped around Miyavi’s blanket bundled body and the way he’s quietly whispering into Miyavi’s ear. It almost makes Tora jealous, but that’s silly because Tora obviously has no reason to be jealous.

And yet.

He wants to be the one able to comfort Miyavi and be the one that gets him to sit up and eat some food and soak in a bathtub, not Uruha. But he’s not, so instead, Tora just leaves the room and closes the door behind him, closing away the image of Uruha and Miyavi curled up so close and intimate on the bed.

He goes back to his room and lies on his own bed and think, just how stupid it is, to feel jealous and to feel like he has to compete. His mind is telling him over and over, he has no reason to feel for Miyavi, he’s just a companion, if even that. Just company he enjoys on a rare occasion.

So why is he jealous then? Why does he want to shove Uruha away and take his place?

Forcing those thoughts out of his mind, Tora just shoves his head under a pillow and closes his eyes. But even with his eyes closed and pillow firmly clamped over his head, Tora can’t help his thoughts from straying to Miyavi and can’t ignore the strange annoyance at the thought of Uruha. His mind feels like a jumbled mess and he just wants to throw a tantrum for all it’s worth.

Maybe this was what it felt like to be crazy.

miyavi. alice nine. the gazette

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