Childish Salvation [Fruits Basket, NC-17, Hatoyame]
Title: Childish Salvation
Series: Fruits Basket
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hatoyame, who else? XD
Genre: Porn/Angst XD
For
karro, who won't survive the week otherwise, what with no CLAMP updates AND no porn. XD I tried to make up for lack of Tsubasa by adding angst, and lack of Donuts by adding, well, porn. XD
Author's Notes: It's been forever since I wrote something, and it was HARD to get used to it again, especially with my bunch of personal health issues.... u__u Oh well, I suppose it's good that I have started again, even if I'm totally unsatisfied with how it ended up XD
Childish Salvation
Ayame hated the usual stern appearance had shifted, almost distorted in pain. But memories were painful, after all - Ayame knew this all too well. The silver-haired man hated the current situation Hatori had managed to get himself into, and which, in turn, affected him as well. The silence between them, uncomfortable ever since Hatori had done that thing, had grown and had been dividing them with each passing minute.
“Ne, Tori-san, do you think that maybe-“
Hatori turned his eyes, even though only one could now see the pale man. His eyes narrowed, effectively silencing Ayame. Ayame couldn’t tell if it was in annoyance or simply because he’d made him lose the concentration to wallow in the memories of the past. Ayame shrugged- it didn’t matter much, anyhow. He wouldn’t have known how to finish that sentence, as everything said now seemed inane. Hatori had been forced to give up his spring. His only chance of happiness.
Ayame knew what that felt like all too well, too.
He raised his eyes, staring at the mop of dishevelled black hair belonging to his best friend. Ayame was suddenly struck with the desire to hug the broken man until he would either heal or, more likely, break down. The silence was becoming unnerving. Though Ayame supposed he should feel flattered that Hatori allowed him to see him in this light. The other family members were only allowed to see the Hatori’s stoic face.
“Tori-san, you have to eat something, at least! It won’t do you any good if you lose your lovely physique!” Ayame tried again, his voice a forced happiness that almost came natural to him.
Hatori grunted. He didn’t bother raising his head, but finally seemed to acknowledge the food- inari sushi - Ayame had kindly and selflessly ordered from a nearby takeout store, and placed in front of him. The doctor’s long fingers listlessly reached for a piece, chewing obligingly.
Ayame knew Hatori wanted him to go, but he wouldn’t accept defeat that soon. Not this time. He reached for the strand blocking Hatori’s blinded eye - Kana’s eye his mind spoke mercilessly before he willed the thought down quickly - and stroked it behind Hatori’s right ear.
Hatori made a small noise of complaint, but didn’t have enough energy to complain against a touch that was too loving to be considered friendly. It was Ayame’s style, after all, flamboyancy - Hatori didn’t think much of it.
When the hand continued its path through Hatori’s hair, fingers burying in the strands tightly, the doctor finally looked up. He looks into yellow eyes, acknowledging what Ayame was offering. He was half-tempted to accept, forgetting everything again in the needy touches and the loud - of course it would be loud, what else could it be - gasps and even screams that he knew the other man produced. And it would be good, he knew that. But afterwards… it would be worse, and the echoes of Ayame’s voice would only increase the silence inside him.
Ayame saw the struggle in Hatori’s face, its youthfulness hidden behind tired wrinkles, heavy circles under his eyes. He shook his head. He didn’t know what else to do to make his friend happy - never did. His words didn’t mean anything to Hatori, and all which was left to give now was simply warmth.
“Please…” Ayame whispered as he climbed atop of the other’s lap, his fingers still tightly entangled in the dark strands.
Hatori gasped, not used to Ayame disobeying his wishes like this, and certainly never having heard a word from the man’s lips so needy and loving and silent like that. And he realised that he’s given up anyhow, given up this struggle before it had even started. So he didn’t move when Ayame leaned up, warm breath ghosting over his lips making his body almost tremble with a need to feel warm again.
His body was a traitor, Hatori thought, making him fall for someone when it knew it was forbidden, making him want his cousin when it knew it would have consequences, even with Ayame. The curse was suddenly horrible and yet not because it meant that Ayame was here, and would always be here, and perhaps he was selfish for taking him for granted.
Ayame didn’t seem to mind, though, as pliable lips melted against his own dry ones and a too-familiar taste greeted his senses. Forcing himself to calm down, his lips slowly softened against Ayame’s, becoming supple and sensitive and wet.
The room became silent then, only small grunts - Ayame’s - disturbing the ticking of the clock. Everything around the house chirped in the cooling summer night, the crickets heard through the tiny opening as the door was not completely closed to relieve the heat.
All thoughts were easily forgotten as Hatori finally began to respond to his touches as a pair of hands grabbed his upper arms, holding him still as lips softly, almost automatically brushed over his own. Ayame wanted to gasp, but Hatori swallowed the sound greedily. Ayame retributed by licking Hatori’s bottom lip, alternatively sucking and licking it.
It was Hatori’s turn to gasp now, although in retrospect he should’ve expected a move like that from the snake of the Jyūnishi. Ayame gave him no time to reconsider as his tongue slipped past his lips, stroking over Hatori’s own tongue. Hatori wrapped both arms around Ayame’s waist, pulling them closer together as he grinded against Ayame. His body was aching for it now, and Ayame’s body convenient.
Ayame relaxed in Hatori’s tight embrace, feeling more content than he’d felt in a long while. Slowly, he pushed Hatori back down on the bed, lying atop of him and, more than happy to help Hatori, he quickly sneaked a hand down Hatori’s pyjama pants, earning him another gasp which he gratefully swallowed.
“Tori-san, what do you want?” Ayame asked suggestively and loudly, but Hatori couldn’t quite bring himself to fidget over who could be overhearing this at the moment, with Ayame’s hand doing such pleasurable things to his body. He only grunted in reply to the question which only vaguely registered in his brain.
Ayame saw this as an excuse to do what he wanted, and moved his free hand over Tori´s, guiding it to his own groin. He gasped at the sensations of a warm hand, Hatori's hand, touching his penis, and thrust instinctively into the warmth. “A-ah, Tori-san!”
Ayame completely forgot he was supposed to be comforting Hatori, his own need temporarily put in second place. It was an occasion so rare that Ayame supposed he couldn’t really be blamed for forgetting it and deftly removed his hand from Hatori’s groin to unbutton the man’s shirt.
Hatori grunted his complaints, the lack of the soft pressure on his groin slowly bringing him back to reality, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He moved his own hand to stimulate himself, but was reprimanded by a slap on his wrist. “Undress me too, Tori-san…”
“Stop saying my name,” Hatori said sternly. It was hard enough to concentrate on forgetting his whereabouts and identity without being reminded of who he would be fucking in a minute. Unwilling to spend much time undressing the man atop of him, he simply finished unbuttoning his own shirt, expecting Ayame to do the same, which Ayame - ever so predictably, as he would never willingly sully his own wardrobe - did.
Their clothes now pooled around them, the friends exchanged hard kisses - both desperate, although both for different reasons - and hands roamed over each other’s bodies, wherever they could reach. In the middle of a kiss, Hatori pushed a slick finger into Ayame to prepare him. Ayame, completely unaware of lube even being in the vicinity, jerked in the kiss, his arms tightening around Hatori’s shoulders in preparation of what he knew was coming.
“T-Tori-san…” he stammered before Hatori muffled his words by another hard kiss, teeth clattering together. Ayame continued a pleasured moan in the kiss, forcing himself to relax under Hatori’s clinical preparation.
Hatori knew exactly how much preparation the other needed without damaging him, and this time, Ayame didn’t care whether he would ache. If anything, he wanted to feel it for as long as possible, a lasting memory of what would happen tonight.
Preparation done, Hatori unzipped and released his erection from his pants, and for one second Ayame felt immensely proud that he could still do that to Hatori. The second later he realised how foolish and petty and meaningless the feeling was. Ayame moved his hand to the flask of lube still in Hatori’s hands, and coated his hands royally before wrapping them around Hatori’s cock.
Hatori gasped, panting slightly under the stimulation. It was almost a strange feeling, his body in such ecstasy when he himself wanted nothing more than to flee from reality. Ayame’s fingers knew him well and he had to pause after Ayame was done preparing him, willing his release as far away as possible. Instead, he focused on Ayame’s arousal, one hand slowly fisting it from base to head.
Ayame quickly leaned in to kiss Hatori again, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from whispering his name again. He mewled as the fingers tightened around him. With a trembling hand, he guided Hatori’s penis to his opening and slowly lowered himself onto it, moaning in the kiss.
Hatori couldn’t help but moan as well. Ayame felt impossibly tight and hot around him. Dammit, but he wouldn’t last long like this. But the feeling of Ayame moving his hips to pull him in even deeper made him thrust back, earning him a quiet, needy whimper. Ayame’s breaths were warm on his neck, the long hair tickling his torso. Hatori couldn’t help but look down at the other man. With his skin flushed an incredible reddish pink all over and his eyes glazed over, Ayame looked tantalising, even to someone with as little desire for life as he had right now. Hatori had the faint urge to touch Ayame’s nipples, maybe even nip them, for he knew what it did to Ayame, but he couldn’t. It would pass the fine line between forgetting and… something else. And that had only been acceptable when they were younger and more hormonal, behind the school grounds or in the gym showers, all of the showerheads turned on to drown out Ayame’s sounds.
Unwilling to fight with this new set of memories, he pounded into Ayame harder, which made Ayame mewl in pleasure, the hands on his back tightening into fists. “P-Please… hurry!” The silver-haired man arched his back, he too growing very close to the edge.
Hatori obeyed, setting a pace of hard, precise thrusts and quickly sped up when he felt Ayame beginning to tighten around him. He curled his fingers around Ayame’s penis again while his other hand was located on the small of Ayame’s back, giving a few tugs in time with his thrusts.
Ayame’s entire body screamed as he came, but he bit on Hatori’s shoulder to keep from crying out too loud. Or, God forbid, screaming his name.
The reality always sunk in after sex; they could never be together. They wouldn’t ever have. Even if Hatori had wanted to, back then. Unwilling to think about it any further, Ayame kept thrusting into Hatori’s hand.
Hatori followed after a few more thrusts, the tightness of Ayame’s body around him forcing release out of him far sooner than he would have liked. Carefully, he pulled out of the pliant body slumped over him, and gently threw Ayame aside next to him on the bed. Their tired gasps filled the room.
After a while, gasps long faded, Ayame moved his head back on Hatori’s shoulder, kissing the bite mark he’d left there. His smile was blissful and real.
“I miss…this.” You. The words slipped past his lips so easily, his body still faint and relaxed with release. Hatori grunted, his body spent as well, and it was too alluring to just ignore the truth, for he didn’t like what it made him.
Hatori crawled under his light summer blankets, his body more relaxed than it had been in a long while. He turned to look at the man sitting next to him, gazing down at him with a mixture of satiation and something he couldn’t, or didn’t want to identify.
“Good night, Tori-san,” Ayame whispered as he moved to get up. Hatori wasn’t quite ready to let the delicious warmth go just yet, and pulled the other back by wrapping an arm around his waist.
Upon seeing Ayame’s startled look, a look he’d only seen once before, he released the man quickly. He couldn’t quite stop his fingers from brushing over the back of Ayame’s hand in silent gratitude. It was trembling, he noticed, and immediately wished he hadn’t noticed.
Hatori saw Ayame smile and bowing his head in acceptance. He rubbed his forehead briefly, which Hatori remembered as a nervous gesture Ayame had last used when they had been young - it seemed an eternity ago - and before the doctor could comment on it, Ayame had already spun around in a dramatic fashion, his mussed hair managing to be as elegant as ever as it whipped over his shoulders.
Ayame laughed. “Tori-san, you’re so hard to please, and it is even rarer to make you grateful for your friends, even if they are wonderful! I am proud!” Bare, pale feet padded over to the partially opened door. Ayame slid it open further.
Hatori didn’t know what to say to the dramatic change in personality, so he simply narrowed his eyes. Ayame was too good a friend for him, even if the man was a horrible one. “Be quick about your way back home, since it’s cold outside.”
Ayame’s smile increased. “Doctor’s orders, then?” he spoke in such a cheerful tone that Hatori suspected it must be meant in as a form of mockery.
“Good night, Ayame.” He tugged his shirt, protecting his cooling skin from the midnight air before crawling back under the white blankets. Ayame glanced at Hatori’s face, and realised he wouldn’t allow anymore indiscretion.
“Pleasant dreams, Hatori.” Ayame said it because really, there wasn’t anything else left for him to say. The pale man quickly stepped in his slippers and closed to door quickly as he started on his long journey away from the doctor.
It was getting harder and harder to breathe as Ayame felt himself pulled from Hatori. The cold night burned in his throat as he felt a slight bout of uncharacteristic panic pounding in his chest. It was hard to grow up, he figured. However, Hatori had already grown up, and accepted the reality, however cruel, in front of him. A fate no longer clouded by foolish hopes and childish dreams.
With each step, Ayame's body grew colder. “Maybe it’s time I grow up too ne, Tori-san.”
Series: Fruits Basket
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hatoyame, who else? XD
Genre: Porn/Angst XD
For
karro, who won't survive the week otherwise, what with no CLAMP updates AND no porn. XD I tried to make up for lack of Tsubasa by adding angst, and lack of Donuts by adding, well, porn. XD
Author's Notes: It's been forever since I wrote something, and it was HARD to get used to it again, especially with my bunch of personal health issues.... u__u Oh well, I suppose it's good that I have started again, even if I'm totally unsatisfied with how it ended up XD
Childish Salvation
Ayame hated the usual stern appearance had shifted, almost distorted in pain. But memories were painful, after all - Ayame knew this all too well. The silver-haired man hated the current situation Hatori had managed to get himself into, and which, in turn, affected him as well. The silence between them, uncomfortable ever since Hatori had done that thing, had grown and had been dividing them with each passing minute.
“Ne, Tori-san, do you think that maybe-“
Hatori turned his eyes, even though only one could now see the pale man. His eyes narrowed, effectively silencing Ayame. Ayame couldn’t tell if it was in annoyance or simply because he’d made him lose the concentration to wallow in the memories of the past. Ayame shrugged- it didn’t matter much, anyhow. He wouldn’t have known how to finish that sentence, as everything said now seemed inane. Hatori had been forced to give up his spring. His only chance of happiness.
Ayame knew what that felt like all too well, too.
He raised his eyes, staring at the mop of dishevelled black hair belonging to his best friend. Ayame was suddenly struck with the desire to hug the broken man until he would either heal or, more likely, break down. The silence was becoming unnerving. Though Ayame supposed he should feel flattered that Hatori allowed him to see him in this light. The other family members were only allowed to see the Hatori’s stoic face.
“Tori-san, you have to eat something, at least! It won’t do you any good if you lose your lovely physique!” Ayame tried again, his voice a forced happiness that almost came natural to him.
Hatori grunted. He didn’t bother raising his head, but finally seemed to acknowledge the food- inari sushi - Ayame had kindly and selflessly ordered from a nearby takeout store, and placed in front of him. The doctor’s long fingers listlessly reached for a piece, chewing obligingly.
Ayame knew Hatori wanted him to go, but he wouldn’t accept defeat that soon. Not this time. He reached for the strand blocking Hatori’s blinded eye - Kana’s eye his mind spoke mercilessly before he willed the thought down quickly - and stroked it behind Hatori’s right ear.
Hatori made a small noise of complaint, but didn’t have enough energy to complain against a touch that was too loving to be considered friendly. It was Ayame’s style, after all, flamboyancy - Hatori didn’t think much of it.
When the hand continued its path through Hatori’s hair, fingers burying in the strands tightly, the doctor finally looked up. He looks into yellow eyes, acknowledging what Ayame was offering. He was half-tempted to accept, forgetting everything again in the needy touches and the loud - of course it would be loud, what else could it be - gasps and even screams that he knew the other man produced. And it would be good, he knew that. But afterwards… it would be worse, and the echoes of Ayame’s voice would only increase the silence inside him.
Ayame saw the struggle in Hatori’s face, its youthfulness hidden behind tired wrinkles, heavy circles under his eyes. He shook his head. He didn’t know what else to do to make his friend happy - never did. His words didn’t mean anything to Hatori, and all which was left to give now was simply warmth.
“Please…” Ayame whispered as he climbed atop of the other’s lap, his fingers still tightly entangled in the dark strands.
Hatori gasped, not used to Ayame disobeying his wishes like this, and certainly never having heard a word from the man’s lips so needy and loving and silent like that. And he realised that he’s given up anyhow, given up this struggle before it had even started. So he didn’t move when Ayame leaned up, warm breath ghosting over his lips making his body almost tremble with a need to feel warm again.
His body was a traitor, Hatori thought, making him fall for someone when it knew it was forbidden, making him want his cousin when it knew it would have consequences, even with Ayame. The curse was suddenly horrible and yet not because it meant that Ayame was here, and would always be here, and perhaps he was selfish for taking him for granted.
Ayame didn’t seem to mind, though, as pliable lips melted against his own dry ones and a too-familiar taste greeted his senses. Forcing himself to calm down, his lips slowly softened against Ayame’s, becoming supple and sensitive and wet.
The room became silent then, only small grunts - Ayame’s - disturbing the ticking of the clock. Everything around the house chirped in the cooling summer night, the crickets heard through the tiny opening as the door was not completely closed to relieve the heat.
All thoughts were easily forgotten as Hatori finally began to respond to his touches as a pair of hands grabbed his upper arms, holding him still as lips softly, almost automatically brushed over his own. Ayame wanted to gasp, but Hatori swallowed the sound greedily. Ayame retributed by licking Hatori’s bottom lip, alternatively sucking and licking it.
It was Hatori’s turn to gasp now, although in retrospect he should’ve expected a move like that from the snake of the Jyūnishi. Ayame gave him no time to reconsider as his tongue slipped past his lips, stroking over Hatori’s own tongue. Hatori wrapped both arms around Ayame’s waist, pulling them closer together as he grinded against Ayame. His body was aching for it now, and Ayame’s body convenient.
Ayame relaxed in Hatori’s tight embrace, feeling more content than he’d felt in a long while. Slowly, he pushed Hatori back down on the bed, lying atop of him and, more than happy to help Hatori, he quickly sneaked a hand down Hatori’s pyjama pants, earning him another gasp which he gratefully swallowed.
“Tori-san, what do you want?” Ayame asked suggestively and loudly, but Hatori couldn’t quite bring himself to fidget over who could be overhearing this at the moment, with Ayame’s hand doing such pleasurable things to his body. He only grunted in reply to the question which only vaguely registered in his brain.
Ayame saw this as an excuse to do what he wanted, and moved his free hand over Tori´s, guiding it to his own groin. He gasped at the sensations of a warm hand, Hatori's hand, touching his penis, and thrust instinctively into the warmth. “A-ah, Tori-san!”
Ayame completely forgot he was supposed to be comforting Hatori, his own need temporarily put in second place. It was an occasion so rare that Ayame supposed he couldn’t really be blamed for forgetting it and deftly removed his hand from Hatori’s groin to unbutton the man’s shirt.
Hatori grunted his complaints, the lack of the soft pressure on his groin slowly bringing him back to reality, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He moved his own hand to stimulate himself, but was reprimanded by a slap on his wrist. “Undress me too, Tori-san…”
“Stop saying my name,” Hatori said sternly. It was hard enough to concentrate on forgetting his whereabouts and identity without being reminded of who he would be fucking in a minute. Unwilling to spend much time undressing the man atop of him, he simply finished unbuttoning his own shirt, expecting Ayame to do the same, which Ayame - ever so predictably, as he would never willingly sully his own wardrobe - did.
Their clothes now pooled around them, the friends exchanged hard kisses - both desperate, although both for different reasons - and hands roamed over each other’s bodies, wherever they could reach. In the middle of a kiss, Hatori pushed a slick finger into Ayame to prepare him. Ayame, completely unaware of lube even being in the vicinity, jerked in the kiss, his arms tightening around Hatori’s shoulders in preparation of what he knew was coming.
“T-Tori-san…” he stammered before Hatori muffled his words by another hard kiss, teeth clattering together. Ayame continued a pleasured moan in the kiss, forcing himself to relax under Hatori’s clinical preparation.
Hatori knew exactly how much preparation the other needed without damaging him, and this time, Ayame didn’t care whether he would ache. If anything, he wanted to feel it for as long as possible, a lasting memory of what would happen tonight.
Preparation done, Hatori unzipped and released his erection from his pants, and for one second Ayame felt immensely proud that he could still do that to Hatori. The second later he realised how foolish and petty and meaningless the feeling was. Ayame moved his hand to the flask of lube still in Hatori’s hands, and coated his hands royally before wrapping them around Hatori’s cock.
Hatori gasped, panting slightly under the stimulation. It was almost a strange feeling, his body in such ecstasy when he himself wanted nothing more than to flee from reality. Ayame’s fingers knew him well and he had to pause after Ayame was done preparing him, willing his release as far away as possible. Instead, he focused on Ayame’s arousal, one hand slowly fisting it from base to head.
Ayame quickly leaned in to kiss Hatori again, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from whispering his name again. He mewled as the fingers tightened around him. With a trembling hand, he guided Hatori’s penis to his opening and slowly lowered himself onto it, moaning in the kiss.
Hatori couldn’t help but moan as well. Ayame felt impossibly tight and hot around him. Dammit, but he wouldn’t last long like this. But the feeling of Ayame moving his hips to pull him in even deeper made him thrust back, earning him a quiet, needy whimper. Ayame’s breaths were warm on his neck, the long hair tickling his torso. Hatori couldn’t help but look down at the other man. With his skin flushed an incredible reddish pink all over and his eyes glazed over, Ayame looked tantalising, even to someone with as little desire for life as he had right now. Hatori had the faint urge to touch Ayame’s nipples, maybe even nip them, for he knew what it did to Ayame, but he couldn’t. It would pass the fine line between forgetting and… something else. And that had only been acceptable when they were younger and more hormonal, behind the school grounds or in the gym showers, all of the showerheads turned on to drown out Ayame’s sounds.
Unwilling to fight with this new set of memories, he pounded into Ayame harder, which made Ayame mewl in pleasure, the hands on his back tightening into fists. “P-Please… hurry!” The silver-haired man arched his back, he too growing very close to the edge.
Hatori obeyed, setting a pace of hard, precise thrusts and quickly sped up when he felt Ayame beginning to tighten around him. He curled his fingers around Ayame’s penis again while his other hand was located on the small of Ayame’s back, giving a few tugs in time with his thrusts.
Ayame’s entire body screamed as he came, but he bit on Hatori’s shoulder to keep from crying out too loud. Or, God forbid, screaming his name.
The reality always sunk in after sex; they could never be together. They wouldn’t ever have. Even if Hatori had wanted to, back then. Unwilling to think about it any further, Ayame kept thrusting into Hatori’s hand.
Hatori followed after a few more thrusts, the tightness of Ayame’s body around him forcing release out of him far sooner than he would have liked. Carefully, he pulled out of the pliant body slumped over him, and gently threw Ayame aside next to him on the bed. Their tired gasps filled the room.
After a while, gasps long faded, Ayame moved his head back on Hatori’s shoulder, kissing the bite mark he’d left there. His smile was blissful and real.
“I miss…this.” You. The words slipped past his lips so easily, his body still faint and relaxed with release. Hatori grunted, his body spent as well, and it was too alluring to just ignore the truth, for he didn’t like what it made him.
Hatori crawled under his light summer blankets, his body more relaxed than it had been in a long while. He turned to look at the man sitting next to him, gazing down at him with a mixture of satiation and something he couldn’t, or didn’t want to identify.
“Good night, Tori-san,” Ayame whispered as he moved to get up. Hatori wasn’t quite ready to let the delicious warmth go just yet, and pulled the other back by wrapping an arm around his waist.
Upon seeing Ayame’s startled look, a look he’d only seen once before, he released the man quickly. He couldn’t quite stop his fingers from brushing over the back of Ayame’s hand in silent gratitude. It was trembling, he noticed, and immediately wished he hadn’t noticed.
Hatori saw Ayame smile and bowing his head in acceptance. He rubbed his forehead briefly, which Hatori remembered as a nervous gesture Ayame had last used when they had been young - it seemed an eternity ago - and before the doctor could comment on it, Ayame had already spun around in a dramatic fashion, his mussed hair managing to be as elegant as ever as it whipped over his shoulders.
Ayame laughed. “Tori-san, you’re so hard to please, and it is even rarer to make you grateful for your friends, even if they are wonderful! I am proud!” Bare, pale feet padded over to the partially opened door. Ayame slid it open further.
Hatori didn’t know what to say to the dramatic change in personality, so he simply narrowed his eyes. Ayame was too good a friend for him, even if the man was a horrible one. “Be quick about your way back home, since it’s cold outside.”
Ayame’s smile increased. “Doctor’s orders, then?” he spoke in such a cheerful tone that Hatori suspected it must be meant in as a form of mockery.
“Good night, Ayame.” He tugged his shirt, protecting his cooling skin from the midnight air before crawling back under the white blankets. Ayame glanced at Hatori’s face, and realised he wouldn’t allow anymore indiscretion.
“Pleasant dreams, Hatori.” Ayame said it because really, there wasn’t anything else left for him to say. The pale man quickly stepped in his slippers and closed to door quickly as he started on his long journey away from the doctor.
It was getting harder and harder to breathe as Ayame felt himself pulled from Hatori. The cold night burned in his throat as he felt a slight bout of uncharacteristic panic pounding in his chest. It was hard to grow up, he figured. However, Hatori had already grown up, and accepted the reality, however cruel, in front of him. A fate no longer clouded by foolish hopes and childish dreams.
With each step, Ayame's body grew colder. “Maybe it’s time I grow up too ne, Tori-san.”